Marigold
by Vee-sempai
Summary: After the conquest of Hueco Mundo, Soul Society is left with a captive Espada and Kira Izuru is in the middle of a brand new mess. Grimmjow/Izuru, with references to past Gin/Izuru and Aizen/Grimmjow
1. Prologue A

This is based on a long-running roleplay, so (at least) half the credit goes to my beta and rp partner.

Characters belong to Kubo Tite.

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When he first saw him, there was a coppery taste on the back of his tongue, like he'd bitten down hard on the inside of his cheek and drawn blood. He was frightened. He was excited. His heart choked him.

The first time those lips had parted and addressed him, only him, with that drawl that lent every word some special significance that only their owner would understand- then, he'd felt the nervous feather tickling at his insides, chasing the blood to his cheeks and sending his heart into double time.

It hadn't been until he'd felt his hands that he'd been afraid.

He wasn't one for risks. He couldn't claim the hardiness of growing up in Rukongai, or even the need for excitement he saw in his classmates. He was calm, staid, withdrawn- and this lack of control, of understanding, _frightened_ him. Like the edges of a blade, each finger hovered just a hairsbreadth away from gutting him, spilling him over the floor for the eyes of curious passerby. Each lazy twitch of that ever-smiling mouth sent him into shudders.

But he was frozen. The man could walk circles around him, knock him off his feet, grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him to his knees, and there wasn't one step he could take.

And it was his own weight that was dragging him down.

There was nothing he had done to hold him there. Not one threat, not one lie, nothing but the sheer _fascination _of his presence. Only that fear. Only that want, that slavish need for every scrap of his attention.

There had been no order to raise his sword against one of his oldest friends, but he had done it.

There had been no threat to keep his mouth shut when he'd learned of the plot against Soul Society, but he hadn't opened it anyway.

There had been no consequences offered if he hadn't submitted himself to his every whim once the doors closed. But he had given in, time and time again.

Every time, it had taken less and less effort.

His blade brought those he fought to their knees in penitence, each strike dragging their head closer to the ground. Wabisuke was a part of his soul, and so it hadn't surprised him the day he had learned the sword's name. He spent day after day apologizing- or at the very least, giving himself reasons that he should.

The day they had left, he'd spent hours apologizing and apologizing to Rangiku- she refused to hear any of it, but the alcohol had only loosened his tongue. He was sorry for attacking her, he was sorry for her pain and his, but more than anything he was sorry for wanting so badly to _hate_ her- only because it was her who had been there when he left. She was the one he had nearly taken with him.

_He _was the one who had been loyal.

Loyal, desperate, and stupid.

It was shame that bowed his head now. There was no way to repay his foolishness but to fix the damage his silence had done. When Soul Society had named him one of the four pillars, he had lifted his head, if just a little. He had been useful. No matter how distasteful the job or tiny the favor, he would do it.

That would be his penitence.


	2. Prologue B

How it started didn't really matter that much.

A Hollow's name only ever mattered to the Hollow himself. The shingami might have used them sometimes- if the Hollow survived the encounter and needed to be put on a hit list somewhere- but they were just as likely to scrawl out a description and leave it at that. Besides, to leave the shinigami alive in the first place meant the Hollow wasn't worth the effort. The more powerful a shinigami got, the less likely they were to go do the dirty work, which meant it was just the small fry left to prey on.

Maybe that was why they all cared so much about their number. Sure, it showed how strong they were, relative to the others, but it was their number. It was stamped on them, carved into their bodies. It was nobody else's.

They had an identity. Something that had to be acknowledged. They existed.

It wasn't a surprise that a gift like that came with rules to be followed. And the second he'd stepped outside those rules, it was gone- just that easily, he was replaced, pushed aside.

In all of his existence, he'd never been so angry.

Some of the others called him a god. Still more, their master. He didn't buy into any of that crap. A shinigami was a shinigami, no matter where their allegiances were. Maybe he owed him a little, for making him what he was now. Since he'd given it, maybe he could take it away.

But it had been humiliating. He had hated him so utterly, so deeply, so desperately- it had consumed him.

Maybe that was what had made it so easy. It had seemed that way, anyway- like it was effortless for him to twist everything around, that it had just been the logical thing to do, that he was the one who had done wrong and should be bowing and scraping at his feet.

It wasn't like he had believed any of it. He wasn't as stupid as the others.

He owed him, he knew that much. And he wasn't the kind that would give his absolute devotion, but- well, a little bit of dutiful obedience never hurt anyone too much.

Except that it had made him stupid. All it had taken was a little bit of complacence, and he'd fallen for it like a class-A fool. Maybe he had never quite declawed him, but those slick promises had made a lapcat out of him just as surely as anything else could have.

It made him sick.

Laying there in the sand, half-dead and bleeding out, he'd known the moment they had left. It was a strange feeling, knowing at once that he had been abandoned by the one who had given him a name and a place and that he was free- at least for now.

He would be free until the last drop of blood hit the sand.


	3. Chapter 1

Hueco Mundo was just as desolate as he'd always imagined.

After the successful defense of Karakura from Aizen's invading forces, Izuru had expected that they would return to Soul Society. The group that had gone into Hueco Mundo itself hadn't even occurred to him- they were some of the most powerful captains, after all. The thought of them needing relief was laughable.

The fact that he was here now made him more than a little nervous.

The conflict itself was over. Kurosaki and his friends had defeated most of the Espada, or at least that was what they had been told. So a few of the vice-captains had been sent in as a makeshift cleanup crew, just to be sure that things would stay quiet. The way things looked now, it was almost impossible to believe it had ever been anything but.

The first thing he had done was check on Abarai. Izuru hadn't been surprised to see that he was one of the ones who had defied their initial orders- in fact, he would have been surprised if he hadn't. That didn't make it any easier to think of what he had been through, or to sit by and watch the best of the Fourth work on him and his friends. But they were masters of their job, and Abarai was tough. In all honesty, it was a waste of his energy to worry himself.

He was probably going to need every spare bit of energy as it was.

Izuru curled his fingers around Wabisuke's hilt and hiked up his hakama with the other hand, trudging up a sand dune. His legs were already screaming in complaint at the shifting sands- anyone who could walk reliably in this place, let alone _fight, _must have calf muscles the size of tree trunks. He had thought the Espada's monstrous strength to be completely manufactured by Aizen, but he was beginning to have his doubts.

The others were probably back in the shattered palace- Las Noches, he thought they had called it. That was where the fighting had taken place, so it made sense that if any of the arrancar were left, it would be there. Izuru had taken the first opportunity to point out that maybe someone should check for stragglers and headed out to the empty desert.

It wasn't that he didn't want to help. But the thought of fighting again, of stumbling across a half-dead arrancar still trumpeting their loyalty to Aizen regardless of the fact that Aizen himself was gone, that he had skipped out with the others as soon as it was convenient- it was just too depressing. Too familiar. No, he would leave the fighting for those who got something out of it.

The sand shifted under his heel, and Izuru slid backwards a few paces before gaining his balance again. He picked up a foot to step forward, and realized just a moment too late that the sand was still shifting.

Sand was not nearly the soft cushion that it looked like. Izuru stared up at the black sky for a moment, thanking whatever higher power had seen fit to smile on him that there hadn't been anyone around to see that, and picked himself up. The sand was clinging tenaciously to his hakama, and it took a few hard swipes to clean himself off.

Izuru was in the middle of straightening back up when a prickle ran down his spine. He froze in place, hand moving back to Wabisuke immediately. It was reiatsu- the undeniable mix of Hollow and _something_ that meant arrancar. It was flagging, barely there, but still present. Izuru straightened up the rest of the way, bringing himself to his full height and stretching out his fingers before taking hold of Wabisuke's hilt more securely. He had hoped to avoid this, but it looked like there was no hope for it.

He steeled himself and took a few quick steps forward, managing to get up the sand dune without sliding back too much. This arrancar might be wounded, but there was no sense in not being as prepared as possible. The high ground would work to his advantage.

When Izuru crested the top of the hill, he saw him. He was tall, probably about Abarai's size, with short hair, half the color of blue steel and half matted to his head with what looked like dried blood. The wound was obvious over his shoulder and bare chest, the blood staining the skin down to the gaping hole in his stomach. The moonlight glinted off a thick plate of bone over his jaw as he lifted his head towards Izuru.

And then their eyes met.

Izuru was aware of his knees sagging just slightly, the sand shifting under him. It was like being hit by a tidal wave- the reiatsu that had been lurking below the surface had exploded into life, thickening the air between them with palpable menace.

And then, just as fast as it had appeared, it was gone. The arrancar took a step forward and nearly tripped, blood-stained white hakama tangling around his legs. He looked back up at Izuru, exhaustion visible in the too-human face.

"You're pretty far outta your element, shinigami."

His voice was coarse, brash and swaggering even as he shook with the effort of holding himself up. Izuru just firmed his grip on Wabisuke's hilt, keeping his face impassive.

"I don't need to be comfortable to do my job."

The arrancar laughed, a harsh, barking sound, and kept advancing on the sand dune, sinking into the sand with every hard step. "Oh yeah? You the garbage man?"

Izuru held still, not betraying his increasing discomfort. "You could say that."

He stopped a few yards from him, inclining his chin in a gesture that both showed off the remnants of the Hollow mask on his jaw and exaggerated his height advantage. "Then save it for the garbage."

Izuru flexed his fingers on Wabisuke's hilt, keeping his eyes on the arrancar as he took a few more steps up the dune. "My duty is to eradicate or capture the remainders of Aizen's forces. Which of those I choose is entirely up to you."

At that the arrancar paused, turning his face slightly toward Izuru again. "Then save your energy," he said, the arrogance disappearing. "I don't give a shit about Aizen."

He couldn't quite identify what it was. It wasn't that his expression had changed that much, or any real emotion had entered his voice. But there was something about those words- something that rang so familiar, something that had passed his own lips not too long before. That brittle undercurrent to each word, when that arrancar in Karakura had spoken of… the former captain of his squad.

Hatred. Bitterness. Abandonment. Loss.

"You know that he's left," Izuru said. It wasn't a question. There was no need for it to be.

The arrancar trudged past him, not answering.

For a moment, Izuru found himself seriously considering just letting him go. What was the use? He found it impossible to believe, even with just those simple words, that this arrancar- an Espada, no doubt of it anymore- had any loyalty left for the man who had made him. And with the wounds that covered him, it was a slim chance that he would even survive for much longer. He was no threat to anyone, not like this.

If he just left now, the Espada would simply die. No one would ever know this had happened.

Izuru turned, watching him. His eyes fell to the number tattooed on the arrancar's back- a large six, looking as though it had been scratched out once and redone.

It took a moment to sink in. Out of all the arrancar Aizen had created, all the ones Soul Society had fought and defeated and those they hadn't even seen, this one before him was number six. Only five were ranked stronger. And after all the adulation from the lesser arrancar, all the lies he and his brethren had been told, here he was. Dying like a stray dog in the desert.

"Wait," Izuru said suddenly.

The arrancar stopped, looking back at him. "What?" he called back, visibly irritated.

Izuru took a few quick steps, catching up with him. "I'm expected to capture if possible," he said in a rush. "Come back to Soul Society. You'll get medical attention, food, clothing. Maybe the chance to get a shot back at Aizen."

The arrancar just stared at him for a long time, long enough that Izuru began to question if he had understood a word he'd said. Then he laughed- hard enough that the bone façade covering his jaw split in two, laughing along with his human mouth like a puppet to a puppeteer. "Me," he repeated. "Go to Soul Society. With a shinigami."

"I'm sure you'll have information that would be valuable to them," Izuru said, feeling more and more ridiculous with each word. "There's no reason for you to die here. If Aizen is your enemy, then… well, he's ours too. And-" He spread his hands, realizing he was still holding Wabisuke. "I'm a vice-captain. I can make myself responsible for you."

The arrancar stared at him, then shook his head, barking out a laugh- more restrained than before, but no less incredulous. "Cute. But no thanks. I ain't shackling' myself to Soul Society on the word of some little shinigami." He turned away again.

Izuru stared at his slowly retreating back. He wasn't fully aware of moving until his feet were carrying him closer to the arrancar. One hand pulled Wabisuke from the sheath.

"Don't even try it," the arrancar said, hands pocketed in the folds of his hakama.

"I can make myself responsible for you," he said again, raising Wabisuke in front of him. "Aizen may have abandoned you, but that doesn't mean you have to walk alone."

He paused, turning a little to look at him again. The mirth from before had disappeared, replaced by a tired frustration. "Look," the arrancar said, face drawn, voice impatient. "I got no quarrel with you. Get out of my way."

Izuru drew himself up, squaring his shoulders. "My name is Kira Izuru," he said, voice stronger than he had expected himself to muster. "Vice-Captain of Third Company. Former second-in-command to Ichimaru Gin."

For a moment, the arrancar just looked at him, eyes unreadable. Then one corner of his mouth drew up, and one hand pulled out to take hold of the sword hilt at his side.

"All right then," he said, starting to smirk. "Let's see what you got."

"Raise your head, Wabisuke," Izuru said quietly, and the blade lengthened and grew, forming the executioner's blade. The arrancar kept one hand on his sword hilt, but it was obvious he was in no sort of fighting stance- his shoulders were back, chest thrust out, hips set wide. Izuru hesitated for a moment.

"Somethin' wrong, shinigami?" The arrancar took a step forward, raising his hands loosely in front of him in a casual stance. "Where'd all that fight go?"

For a moment, Izuru just watched, Wabisuke held firmly in front of him. The arrancar took a step forward, rising to the balls of his feet, and jabbed his fists lightly into the air, boxing an invisible opponent. His eyes flicked up to Izuru's a split second before that invisible opponent became real, the next punch blindingly fast and aimed directly at his face.

It would have been easy enough to dodge it, especially since he had seen it coming, but Izuru chose to wait until the last moment. That way, the arrancar's fist clipped his hair, and he ended up within strike range. Wabisuke's blade had tapped each knee before the arrancar went to take a step back, and before his foot hit the sand, the flat of the sword slid up his arm in a quick caress.

The arrancar settled back on his feet, and there was a look of faint unease on his face. One short moment of silence passed before one knee hit the sand, then the other. His arm sagged forward, dragging him face-first to the ground.

Izuru took a step back, lowering Wabisuke. The arrancar struggled vainly, his one unaffected arm flexing and straining. For muscles that were obviously already overworked, it seemed only one strike was necessary- he was pinned to the sand.

"What the hell was that?" he spat out, head lifting just enough to fix his eyes on Izuru's face- startlingly blue eyes, reflecting in the moonlight.

Izuru lifted Wabisuke slightly. "My zanpakutou's ability is to double the weight of whatever it touches," he said simply. "To bow my opponent's head to the ground, as if in penitence. His name is Wabisuke."

"You're a sneaky little bastard, aren't you?" Despite the words, there was a light of something dawning in the arrancar's eyes- not admiration, but at least a measure of respect. "All right, you got me. Go on ahead."

It was almost reflex that he lowered the blade, letting the sharp edges cup the arrancar's throat. Those eyes never wavered.

"You're not afraid," he said.

The arrancar's lips curled slightly- not a smile, not a smirk, but a tired kind of expression that stung him. "You win. I lose. This is how it goes. What's there to be scared of?"

Izuru held Wabisuke in place for a moment, then pulled it back, flicking the blade through the air and resheathing it. Then the steady gaze wavered, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"What're you doing?" the arrancar demanded, squirming around in the sand.

"I'm not going to kill you," Izuru said simply. "I have no reason to."

The arrancar gaped at him.

He leaned down, then took hold of one arm, taking a deep breath and lifting him to his knees. The arrancar went to wrench out of his hands, then wobbled and nearly fell again. "I don't need your-"

"It's not pity," Izuru said quietly. "It's planning. We have the same enemy- it doesn't mean we have to be allies, but there's no sense in us fighting each other."

At that, he paused, looking back up at him. There was something measuring in his eyes.

"You said Ichimaru was your captain."

Izuru stiffened slightly. The arrancar nodded, looking grim.

The silence that fell was uncomfortable- almost unbearable. The gaze had steadied again, and now it was Izuru who was forced to look away, taking hold of the arrancar's arm and tugging him carefully to his feet. He didn't resist this time.

"I'll go with you," he said abruptly.

Izuru looked over at him, studying his face. "To Soul Society?" he pressed. "They may imprison you. Interrogate you."

The arrancar shrugged. "Either that or I die here. It doesn't make much of a difference to me."

It was a strange feeling that took hold of him then. There was a certain amount of relief- it was at least a guarantee that the arrancar wouldn't die just yet. Maybe they would learn more about Aizen's plans. It could be of enormous benefit to Soul Society, and Izuru would be looked on favorably for arranging it. On the other hand, it was almost sure that he would be imprisoned and probably experimented on by the Twelfth squad. It wouldn't be much of an existence.

But it would be one.

Izuru turned to face him. "Then I'll take you," he said decisively. "I'll take responsibility for you."

The arrancar laughed, and took a careful step, stretching his too-heavy legs. "Don't work too hard, shinigami."

Izuru went to follow, then paused. "Wait."

"What now?" Sharp blue eyes found his.

Izuru hesitated a moment, then pressed on. "What's your name?"

"You wanna know my name?" The arrancar turned back to face him, hands in his pockets, a faint smirk on his face.

"Yes," he said simply. "I do."

The arrancar widened his stance again, thrusting his chin into the air proudly. "Grimmjow Jaegerjacques," he said. "Don't forget it, Kira Izuru."

"I won't," Izuru said, and he knew it was the truth.


	4. Chapter 2

Soul Society was a hotbed of activity. Aizen was missing again, many of their higher-ranked shinigami were hospitalized with critical injuries, all security details had been doubled- it was easy to see how several captive Espada could have gone unnoticed. The only ones who had the privilege of knowing they were there were the ones who had captured them and a few of the captains. They had been expressly forbidden to discuss the situation with anyone but Head Captain Yamamoto and Captain Kurotsuchi, which meant Izuru hadn't spoken a word to anyone. He hadn't even seen Grimmjow Jaegerjacques since he had turned him over to the Twelfth Company.

It sat badly with him. It was easy enough to tell himself that a captive was no use unless they were healthy and treated humanely, and that Head Captain Yamamoto wouldn't allow someone who came along willingly to be treated like a dangerous animal, but even his own words weren't convincing him. Izuru was as versed in Soul Society's history as anyone else, and he couldn't help but worry that this would become another one of those spots that was swept under the rug.

He had busied himself with paperwork. It was his usual way of distracting himself- after all, with no captain, there was certainly enough of it piling up. But as the days passing turned into a week, then were approaching a second, it was just too much to push out of his mind.

He was starting to take circuitous routes to drop off his paperwork. He stopped in buildings he hadn't been in for years- sometimes decades- poking his head in rooms, saying hello to people whose names he couldn't remember. He had gotten a few puzzled looks, but that had been the extent of it.

Izuru knew he was treading into dangerous waters. He had been expressly instructed to not mention the arrancar to anyone, much less look for him. There had no consequences mentioned, but he could make some guesses.

He had been imprisoned once, and that had only been for one night. That had been bad enough. He couldn't imagine going back.

Even if he did still belong there.

Misgivings aside, Izuru had waited until night had fallen to do his filing. He felt a lot less conspicuous than when he wandered around during the day. It didn't hurt that most people had already finished their work day by then, leaving him in relative peace to do his work. He had actually started doing that long before- there were only so many pitying looks one man could handle.

The first place he had looked had been the abandoned buildings near the Twelfth Company's squad house. That had been the obvious choice- luckily, the buildings were still empty. The place made him nervous. But in the days following, he'd had no more luck with any of the rest of the Seireitei.

Tonight, he had nowhere left to look.

He had been walking for a long time. He'd skirted the edge of Rukongai, paced around the Academy, then gone by all of the squad houses again. But his mind was nowhere near the buildings he could see around him, or the few people he passed. This night, like more nights than he could count, he was inside that cell, clutching his arms to his chest and trying to understand how he had raised his blade to someone he considered a friend.

That had seemed like the ultimate betrayal to him, and yet what followed was so much worse. Captain Ichimaru had coaxed him out of the cell against direct orders. He had- willingly!- attacked Rangiku, and allowed Hinamori to be seriously hurt.

And then, he had witnessed the aftermath of a mass murder, and said nothing.

Izuru stopped, looking up at the huge building in front of him. The Central Forty-Six. He wasn't tremendously surprised to find himself here- it wasn't as if it was the first time. Criminals often returned to the scene of the crime, even if that crime was cowardice.

He was in the middle of turning to go when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Izuru paused, looking back over his shoulder, unable to force back the sudden childish dread.

The door was half open.

He turned to face the front of the building, hands weak at his sides. It loomed up into the black night sky, door yawning open. It was silent, dark, forbidding- but inviting him in.

It was an inexorable fascination that drew him past the heavy door's threshold. It was dark inside, and for a moment Izuru was certain he could just make out the shapes of bodies slumped over desks, the stench of their blood permeating the air. But he knew full well that they were gone, that every stain had been cleaned away, that there was no trace of the massacre that had occurred here.

The half-open door let in just enough light that he could make his way through the audience room. Izuru stepped carefully, then squinted a little.

There was light coming from a back hallway.

To his credit, he did take a moment to think. Curiosity wasn't exactly a typical vice of his- Izuru had learned over the years that it was usually best to let well enough alone. And yet, there was something brewing in him tonight that muffled that little voice. Before he had really reached a decision, his feet were moving. Like a moth to a flame, he was following the light.

There were three doors, a weak light coming from underneath each. Izuru hesitated, hands clenching a little at his sides. There was no reiatsu obvious in the building- it felt completely uninhabited. It was more likely than anything that someone had been using empty rooms for storage or been going through old files and had simply forgotten to turn the lights off. There was no reason for this moment to feel so important.

Izuru tried to shake it off- it was ridiculous- and reached for the handle of the first door. If there was anyone inside, he was simply concerned about the open front door. That was all. He pulled the door open a crack, then peered in.

All it took was the sight of a large, hulking frame in the corner of the room for him to shut the door as quickly as he'd opened it. Izuru took a deep breath, leaning one hand on the wall and trying to force his stomach from his throat back to where it belonged. He closed his eyes for a moment.

After all this searching, he had actually found them. And yet, he was still so shocked.

Izuru made sure the door was closed, then forced himself down the hallway to check the next door. Luckily for his heart rate, it was empty. He pulled the second door shut, then took a few more steps down the hall to the third and last door.

For a moment, he just stared at the weak light coming from underneath the door. He had no actual idea how many arrancar had been taken captive. It wasn't certain that it was Grimmjow behind this door- in fact, he had no way of knowing if Grimmjow was even anywhere in the Seireitei. It would be the safest thing to simply leave it be. He had done his part- he had given him a chance to survive. It was more than he would have expected were their roles reversed.

But it wasn't enough.

Izuru laid his hand on the door handle.

He didn't know why. All he knew was that he wanted to see him again.

The handle turned easily under his hand, and Izuru pulled the door open- but just a crack. The room itself was silent, except for the sound of a candle popping. Maybe it was empty after all. He stuck his head in the small opening, then paused.

There were bars in the center of the room, separating it in two. The lone candle was the only light in the room, casting writhing shadows over the wall. Izuru let his eyes follow them back to the corner of the room, where a shoddy hospital bed was jammed against the wall and the bars.

The candlelight set off the contrasts of the arrancar's skin, between the pale flesh of his thigh exposed by the side slit of his hakama and the ruddy marking of a scar over his chest and midsection. The blood-stained jacket he had been wearing in Hueco Mundo was nowhere to be seen, and the similarly dirtied hakama had been replaced with a pair from a shinigami uniform- ill-fitting, seeming too loose around the waist but too short in the legs. His hands were clasped in front of him in wooden restraints, the heavy block resting on his knees.

But most significant was the red band around his throat, reminiscent of a collar.

Izuru pushed the door open just a bit more. The arrancar's head lifted at the noise.

"Who's there?" Grimmjow snapped, eyes searching through the low light. "Show yourself."

Were Izuru someone who were more easily intimidated, he might have been. Instead he pushed the door open the rest of the way and took a step into the room before letting it close behind him.

He wasn't sure what he had expected. Surprise- resentment, maybe. But not the slow, almost sly smirk that curled his lips. "Kira Izuru," Grimmjow pronounced.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjacques," he returned, taking a few steps closer to the bars. It was a foolish gamble to get within arm's length of the makeshift prison- he was unarmed, and there was certainly no one without shouting range besides the other arrancar down the hall- but he felt no fear. At least, not a significant amount. There was just no menace in his eyes.

In fact, he _almost_ smiled- it was more of a smirk of amusement, but it was a more pleasant expression nonetheless. "You remembered, huh."

Izuru laid a hand on the bars, tugging at one experimentally. "I can't imagine not remembering a name like that," he said honestly.

Grimmjow's lips curled just a little more, and he straightened up to what must have been his full height- impressive, even sitting and shackled. "Keep it that way."

He left a hand on the bars, looking over the tiny half-room. It was completely bare, except for the bed and a small table- even the table was bolted to the floor. Whoever had put these temporary holding cells together had done it with the idea of complete security. The table was topped with a small tray, the remnants of what looked like some plain rice scattered over it. Not even any utensils.

"At least they're feeding you," Izuru said, trying to keep some lightness to his voice.

"The food's shit," Grimmjow said bluntly. "Barely even worth eating."

He glanced over at the tray, then bit back the observation that it seemed he'd made quite the effort anyway. "Well… one of the purposes of imprisonment is to give you time to reflect on what put you there in the first place. Your surroundings are as spartan as possible to avoid distractions, to make you focus your mind."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and flopped back against the wall, extending his legs in a languorous stretch. "Yeah? So what did I do to put me here?"

Izuru opened his mouth, then closed it again. He knew what the answer was- or at least, what it was supposed to be. But the words were ash in his mouth. By all logic, the arrancar were imprisoned because they fought on Aizen's side. But it was the same as blaming the sword for where the wielder directed it. Aizen had created them, fed them, clothed them, given them beds to sleep in and names to call their own. How were they to know what their purpose was, what was going on in the world outside of Hueco Mundo?

"You know why you're here," Izuru said instead, eyes on the floor somewhere near Grimmjow's feet. "Because Aizen is Soul Society's enemy."

He could feel Grimmjow's eyes on him. "Well, I sure as hell ain't Soul Society's friend."

"The longer you talk like that, the longer you'll be in here."

A short, barking laugh was his reply, and Izuru looked up. Grimmjow was smirking, arms crossed behind his head. "Not exactly somethin' a regular upstanding citizen would say. You know how it works firsthand, huh?"

In reality, Izuru was aware that he hadn't actually said anything that damning. It would be easy enough to point that out and defuse the situation before it became anything significant. But that kind of delicacy required the ability to lie convincingly, which was something he'd never possessed. So instead he coughed, eyes flicking back to the floor, stomach twisting. "I-"

"And here I was thinking you were some standup goody-two-shoes little shinigami. Guess not."

His fingers clenched on the bar. "I'm not proud of anything that happened," he said hotly, the twist in his stomach reappearing in his chest. "I-"

His voice died in his throat. Grimmjow was simply looking at him, stretched out lazily over the corner of the bed. His fingers were laced behind his head, back arched slightly almost as if he were deliberately showing off the way the candlelight played over his skin, silhouetting each hard muscle and playing down into the hollow in his stomach.

"Well?" Grimmjow prodded.

"I… have to go," he said in a rush, pulling his hand away from the bars. "I don't know if anyone saw me come in, I-"

"You're not supposed t' be in here?" Grimmjow's smirk just widened. "This just gets better and better."

"This isn't _funny_," Izuru snapped before thinking. The second the words passed his lips, he froze- while things had been relatively cordial so far, he had momentarily forgotten that it would be in his best interest to keep things that way. The suppressor collar might block the expression of reiatsu, but Izuru had no doubt that the muscles he'd been admiring only moments earlier would make short work of his restraints without any help.

So he fell silent and just looked at Grimmjow, and Grimmjow looked back at him. The quiet swelled, throbbing in his ears.

And then he grinned. "You know what? You got balls. I think I like you."

The sense of relief was understandable. The little flutter in his throat was more of a mystery.

Izuru stood for a moment more at the bars, then looked down at the floor as he felt himself smile. "I'm… I'll-"

"Yeah?"

Izuru looked up, and their eyes met. And just like the first time, his knees sagged, just a little.

"I'll come back," he said. "Soon."

"I'll hold you to that," Grimmjow said, and he grinned.


	5. Chapter 3

He saw Grimmjow again the next night.

The arrancar had greeted him with a smirk and a nod. The realization that he had been expected was unsettling, but not completely disagreeable- in fact, Izuru had to confess to being a little pleased that Grimmjow had taken his promise to heart. It wasn't as though he had any real reason to believe him, but he had taken his word just the same.

Izuru had taken a chair from an empty room and pulled it up next to the bars, facing the bed. At the beginning, Grimmjow had faced him, sitting easily back against the wall.

They had talked awkwardly about nothing for a few minutes- or rather, Izuru had talked, and Grimmjow had watched him with unreadable eyes. And then he had asked about Aizen.

Izuru had hesitated, at first. A guilty conscience had the effect of making him overly cautious- if he slipped, if he said something more than he should, and it turned out that this was nothing more than a scheme of Aizen's, he would never be able to forgive himself. But it wasn't as though Aizen couldn't have told him just as much himself.

And he just couldn't shake the feeling that Grimmjow deserved to know.

So he had told him the story, beginning to end, as he would have told it to anyone. The facts were all that were really necessary, and even they took what seemed like hours to tell.

At the beginning, Grimmjow had just leaned back against the wall. As Izuru kept talking, he'd leaned forward. Then brought his legs up onto the bed, folding them and leaning down onto his knees. Then he'd forgone the bed entirely and stood. By the time Izuru had gotten to Aizen's actual defection, he was prowling the cell like a caged animal.

And then it was late, so he had taken his leave. Grimmjow had only grunted when he'd said goodbye, and had been staring at the wall as he closed the door.

Izuru came again the next night, not feeling quite as comfortable as he had before. But this time Grimmjow had gotten up and walked over to the bars, greeting him with a sharp grin. Then he'd offered him the remains of his dinner- what looked like rice and some sort of leafy vegetable- and Izuru had been unable to hold back a laugh. Grimmjow had looked pleased.

Grimmjow hadn't even bothered to sit that time. He'd paced the cell, sometimes pausing to take a few swift punches at the air. They had talked about how it had rained all that day. Grimmjow had never seen rain.

When he walked in the third night, Grimmjow was tugging at one table leg, watching how it rattled. When Izuru walked up to the bars, he'd stood and then came over to meet him on the other side. When Izuru had pulled up his chair, Grimmjow sat on the bed. They had made more small talk that night, even though it became more and more obvious as time went on that there was something on Grimmjow's mind. It was only half an hour before he had gotten up to pace again, walking the length of the cell and then stretching up to look out the window.

Izuru hadn't pried.

The next day had been the one out of the week he took to work with the squad, and their exercises had stretched on long into the evening. By the time he made it to the Central Forty-Six, Grimmjow had greeted him with a terse "where the hell have you been?" and had sat on the bed with his back to the bars.

The attitude had stung him, and he'd almost left. But every movement he'd made- dragging the chair, sitting down, getting up again- had been followed by the tiniest motion of Grimmjow's head. He was watching him out of the corner of his eye, even as he put up the pretense of ignoring his very presence.

So he'd stayed, and told him about his day, pretending he didn't notice the lack of response. By the time he'd left, long into the early morning, Grimmjow had gotten up to pace again, coming back to sit on the bed next to him every few minutes before getting up to walk some more.

When he'd left, Grimmjow had moved up to the bars again, and had stayed there watching until he closed the door.

Izuru liked to think that he was reasonably intelligent. But he knew that what he was doing was stupid- even dangerous. It had been three weeks, and there had been no announcement made to the companies that arrancar were even being held. It was being covered up. While it was possible the captains knew, Izuru had his doubts. The only ones who had to know what was going on were those who had captured the arrancar in Hueco Mundo and those who were providing care for them now- but there was no way to know who that was without running the risk of exposing what he had been doing.

Every bit of logical thinking he could muster told him to stop. He had satisfied his curiosity- Grimmjow was alive. He was being cared for enough to keep him that way. But reason wasn't enough to counteract emotion- it never really had been, despite his best efforts- and it was sentimentality that kept him coming back.

Grimmjow was withering before his eyes. The cell wasn't long enough for more than two or three steps, there was no interaction (except Izuru himself), and the suppressing collar had effectively rendered him if not helpless, then crippled. But even more than that, there was something that was eating away at him, something that would surface behind his eyes momentarily and then retreat.

Izuru had seen it happen before. With Abarai, when he had allowed himself to be separated from his childhood friend in the Academy. With Hisagi, when he had thrown himself headfirst into replacing his former captain and refused to admit that the betrayal might have affected him, too. With Hinamori, when she realized that the Aizen she had built up in her heart was nothing more than a lie. With Matsumoto, when Captain Ichimaru had made her believe for a moment that maybe he would miss her.

With himself.

It was easy to tell himself it wasn't his concern when he was in his own room, far away from that pathetic little cell. There was no reason for him to worry about it- he had to take care of himself, after all, and Grimmjow Jaegerjacques was an _arrancar_, created and groomed to be Aizen's weapon. A Hollow and a gleeful killer. He was projecting his own insecurities onto a creature that had none of them.

But every night he went, and every night he felt himself fall just a little bit farther.

His work was suffering. More than once, he had forgotten to eat. One day, Hinamori had stopped him in the hallway and asked him if he was all right, that he looked a little sick.

Hinamori. Hinamori, of all people, who still spent most days with eyes bloodshot from crying.

So he had sworn to himself that he would made a decision, and soon. That night. He would go see Grimmjow one more time, and if he couldn't find a reason to complain about his treatment to someone who mattered- a reason beyond his own uneasiness- then it would be the last time.

It was cloudy that night. Izuru occupied his thoughts on the long walk over with trying to determine if it would rain or not- the air was heavy, there was a light wind, but the clouds just didn't seem full enough.

The inside of the Central Forty-Six was as silent as ever. Izuru pulled the heavy door shut behind him, and took a moment to squint through the dark at the empty desks, finding his path through them. He walked slowly, feeling ahead with each step.

Whoever had brought the prisoners their 'dinner' had left Grimmjow's door open just a crack, and candlelight lit the hallway.

Izuru laid a hand on the door, then pushed it open slowly, carefully, knowing that one of the hinges squeaked. He took a step inside once the crack was wide enough, then shut the door behind him.

"Hey, Kira."

Grimmjow was stretched out over the bed, arms behind his head. As Izuru came closer, he lifted his head a little, favoring him with half a grin.

"What if it hadn't been me?" Izuru pulled the chair up, frowning a little. "That could have been dangerous."

"I knew it was you." He stretched, back arching lazily. Izuru averted his eyes. "No one else comes in here this late."

"I suppose you're right." He sat back in the rickety chair, winding his fingers together.

Grimmjow flung long legs into the air, then brought them back down just as hard, using his own weight as a lever to push him up into a sitting position. He folded his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Early tonight," he observed.

"Am I?" Izuru laughed a little weakly. "I hadn't noticed."

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, leaning a little further forward. His eyes searched over his face, probing deep, starting at his eyes and moving in widening circles down until they stopped suddenly at his arm.

"What's that?" he asked abruptly.

Izuru blinked, then followed his gaze to his arm. Then he nodded, understanding, and reached down to untie the knot, pulling off the badge.

"This is my vice-captain's badge," he said, holding it up so Grimmjow could see. "It designates me as second-in-command of the Third Company."

"Second-in-command," Grimmjow repeated. "So… Ichimaru was your captain."

There was no way to stop the tightening in his shoulders, so Izuru didn't bother to try. He lowered his head for a moment, looking down at the badge in his hands.

"Yes. He was."

For a moment, it was silent. Izuru looked over the badge- the three lines, the engraving of the marigold.

"You had it pretty bad for him, huh."

Izuru's head snapped up before he could stop himself, eyes widening. "How- how did you know that?" he whispered, stomach twisting. How could it be so obvious? He had barely spoken of Ichimaru, let alone in a way that would betray him. He had been so _careful_.

"I didn't," Grimmjow said simply. "But I do now."

Izuru just stared at him for a moment. His cheeks were hot. His chest hurt.

"You look like I just killed your dog." Grimmjow leaned his chin on a hand, fingers of his free hand tapping a lazy rhythm on his leg. "That's really such a terrible thing for me t' know?"

He pushed up off the chair, and this time it was Izuru who was pacing. "It's not something I try to spread around," he said, refusing to lift his head. "It's…"

"Pathetic? Humiliating?"

He whipped around, prepared to snap back at him, then paused. Grimmjow was still leaned forward, chin in his hand, but his entire manner had changed. His eyes were serious, the faint curl of his lips gone.

Izuru stepped up to the bars, laying a hand against them. "Grimmjow," he said quietly.

Grimmjow just watched him for a moment. Then he uncurled his legs, straightening his back and getting up.

He kept his hand against the bars, eyes following him. "What was Aizen to you?"

Grimmjow stopped in his tracks, hands clenching into fists.

Izuru didn't say any more. He didn't need to. Grimmjow's shoulders drew up, tensed, and then he turned to the bars. His eyes were fiery, the bone over his jaw grinding as his own teeth must have been. "Aizen's a lying piece of shit," he snapped. "He's not worth caring about. I hope he's dead. That asshole's nothing to me."

"Then why do you look so lost?"

At his words, Grimmjow's eyes opened a little wider, and for a moment he just looked back at Izuru. He looked puzzled, as if he had just been told something fantastical- and the way his face had opened, become almost vulnerable, it was more obvious than it ever had been before that there was _something _within him, something at the seat of his being that even Aizen had been unable to touch.

Then his hand shot through the bars and grabbed Izuru by the front of his haori, dragging him up against the bars. For a moment, his heart was in his throat, and his hands were moving to take hold of a sword that wasn't there- it was his fault, he should have known, he had given him so many opportunities, he had grown complacent in front of one of the world's most dangerous creations, he had felt _safe_-

And then he felt Grimmjow's mouth on top of his, the other hand moving through the bars to grasp the back of his head, and the clutching in his stomach was for an entirely different reason. Izuru could feel the bone on his jaw scraping his cheek, his haori wrinkling under the unforgiving grasp, but more than anything else his fingers were tangling into his hair and his mouth was hot.

Izuru pulled back a moment later- one moment that was far longer than he should have allowed- and teeth ghosted over his lip. Whether it was those past his lips or the ones on his jaw, he had no idea. The realization made him a little dizzy.

Grimmjow just looked at him. The fingers curled into his haori had loosened, but his other hand remained cradling the back of his head, tipping Izuru's face up towards his.

He knew he had to say something. Whether it was to scold him, or to defuse the situation, or just let him down gently, he had to. This couldn't go on. He had already let it go on for far too long.

But all he could do was look back at him, and in the back of his mind, a tiny voice babbled away about how _not_ like Captain Ichimaru he had felt.

And how not like Captain Ichimaru, he knew he could back away. He had a choice, he had a _decision_, and if he wanted he could walk out the door and never come back. Nothing bad would happen to him if he did.

But Izuru reached both hands through the bars and took his face into his hands, bringing him back down. Grimmjow huffed out a little sigh against his mouth before kissing him back eagerly, the hot breath sending a long shiver down his spine. Grimmjow flattened a hand on his back and pulled him up against the bars- they dug into him hard, but Izuru imagined he could feel the heat of Grimmjow's body, radiating into the air and curling around him.

He pulled back just far enough to breathe, and Grimmjow left his forehead against the bars, eyes heavy and half curtained.

"I'm breaking you out of here," Izuru whispered.

For the first time he could remember, Grimmjow's face brightened into a smile.


	6. Chapter 4

He needed to learn how to keep his mouth shut.

Grimmjow was pressed up against the bars, bright eyes following his every move. The moment Izuru had been able to tear himself away, he had taken a few steps back to look over the cell. While it wasn't what the room had originally been designed for, it was still very solidly put together. There were holes bored into the ceiling and floor to fit the bars in, and the window was too small to permit the passage of a whole body.

When Captain Ichimaru had broken him out of the cell, he had simply unlocked the door. These bars had no door- it was as if they didn't plan for him to ever come out. When Hinamori had broken herself out, it had been with a powerful kidou. Grimmjow was completely restrained. There was no way for him to do anything with enough force to break the bars.

They had to do it in some way that wouldn't make it obvious he had help.

Izuru gnawed at his lower lip. If it was obvious Grimmjow had an accomplice, the list of suspects would be short. Besides the obvious fact that he wasn't sure he could bear incarceration and censure again, if he was gone, there would be no one left to help Grimmjow.

It would have to be done very carefully.

"Come on, Kira," Grimmjow said impatiently, rattling the bars a little. "What're we waitin' for?"

"I'm planning." He took a step to the side, then sighed. No. There was just no way.

"Planning what? Come on, let's just bust this thing down and let's go!" He shook the bars a little more.

Izuru shook his head and sat down on the chair again, leaning his forehead in his hand. "We have to be careful," he said, rubbing his temples. "There's only so many people who know you're here, Grimmjow, and even fewer who would be interested in helping you get out. It has to look like no one helped you, like you did it yourself."

"Oh." For a moment Grimmjow looked mildly puzzled. "It's so no one knows it's you getting me out. Right?"

Izuru nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. He had to think.

The resounding crash nearly knocked him out of his chair. His eyes flew open, a hand clutching reflexively for the absent sword at his side.

Grimmjow looked down at him through the gaping hole in the bars, then coughed and shook debris off his shoulders. Almost as an afterthought, he lifted his hands and forced them apart, snapping the wooden restraint in two.

Izuru stood up slowly, bracing himself on the back of the chair, eyes wide. "What… what did you do?" he managed. The collar was still there, and he couldn't feel the slightest drop of reiatsu from him. There was no way it could have malfunctioned.

Grimmjow shrugged a little. "Well, you said it had to look like I did it. So I did it."

He took a step over to the shattered bars. It had been one blow that had destroyed them- one blow from shackled hands with no reiatsu behind them. And Grimmjow just stretched unused muscles and shook off the dust like it was nothing.

That fearsome strength must be the difference between an arrancar and an Espada.

Izuru shook his head, then paused, looking back up at him. "Grimmjow," he said slowly. "If you could do that, all along… why didn't you?"

He cocked his head, stepping carefully over the broken bars and cracking his knuckles. "Huh?"

Izuru indicated the decimated cell. "This. If you could just break these bars any time you wanted… then why did you stay in here all this time?"

Grimmjow looked back at the bars, as though pondering the question, then shrugged. "Where would I go?"

He watched him, more than aware that this was the first time they'd been without bars between them since Hueco Mundo. "Out. Anywhere. I saw you in there. You hated it."

He moved to the center of the room and stretched his arms up above his head, arching his back and thrusting his hips forward with a long sigh. "Well, out there, in here… at least in here I get food." He turned his head towards him, lips curling in a slow smirk. "And company. Can't forget the company."

Izuru was aware of a building heat in his cheeks, and he looked down. The pair of hakama Grimmjow had been given barely fit- now that he was moving around, they had dragged down to expose one hip and the lower muscles of his abdomen. Izuru looked the other way.

"Let's go," he said, ears hot. "We probably don't have much time."

Grimmjow nodded, looking a bit more solemn, and followed him without a word. The door was still open a crack, so Izuru just pushed it open slowly, careful of the squeaky hinge. Not that it would probably matter much, in wake of the noise breaking those bars must have made.

The hallway was pitch black, and Izuru hesitated before taking a step out of the room. Usually, the sun was about to rise on his way out, and it gave him a little more light. He reached for the wall and misstepped, fingertips just scraping over the surface before he started tipping over.

For a moment, Izuru wondered why these things happened, and received no answer.

Then an arm caught him around the waist. He held still for a moment to catch his breath, feeling Grimmjow's chest against his back.

"Lemme lead," he said, breath ruffling Izuru's hair. "I can see."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and waited until Grimmjow moved past him. Glancing up, Izuru just barely caught the flash of reflected light from his eyes. He caught the belt on his hakama more by reflex than anything else, and followed him carefully.

"Don't tug too hard, now."

He laughed a little and followed in silence for a moment or two before the curiosity got to be too much. "I fought an arrancar that took the form of a large bird," Izuru offered. "It's seemed that a lot of the full releases have been… symbolic, almost."

Grimmjow grunted in reply, turning out of the hallway and picking his way through the desks.

"Can I ask about yours?"

For a moment Grimmjow was silent, and Izuru sorely regretted the question. It was incredibly personal, now that he thought about it more closely. He opened his mouth to take it back, to apologize.

"M' sword's name is Pantera." There was a little edge of pride to Grimmjow's voice. "That tell you enough?"

Izuru smiled a little and nodded, even knowing Grimmjow couldn't see him. "It does." It certainly explained why he could see in the dark.

Grimmjow led him easily through the rest of the audience room, then stopped by the front door. Izuru moved past him, taking a deep breath and pushing it open just a crack. Once he was relatively sure there was no one outside, he pushed it open all the way and took a step out into the fresh night air.

It was raining in earnest now. He took one more look around, then nodded to Grimmjow to follow. He made a face up into the sky, then picked his way down the stairs. Izuru noticed somewhat belatedly that he was barefoot.

"Here," he said simply, kneeling down and moving aside a loose tile in the roadway. A ladder extended into the ground underneath it, disappearing into darkness.

Grimmjow squatted down next to him, peering down into the hole, then glanced up at him. "You knew this was here?"

Izuru nodded. "Hurry. Someone might come by any minute."

Grimmjow kept eye contact with him for a moment, then just nodded before taking hold of the first rung of the ladder, disappearing down step by step into the darkness. Izuru waited, blinking rain out of his eyes, then followed, grabbing the tile and pulling it down over the opening.

He hadn't been down here for years, but his feet still remembered the way down the ladder. About halfway down, a soft glow became visible from beneath them, and his steps were more sure the rest of the way.

By the time Izuru reached the bottom of the ladder, Grimmjow was looking around, a look of faint bewilderment on his face. He just watched him for a moment, words not coming easily.

He was in over his head.

Izuru pushed the thought aside and took a few steps over to his side. "These waterways are used only by the Fourth squad," he offered. "There are a lot of side rooms that go completely unused. As long as you keep the suppressor on, no one will ever know you're here."

"Fourth squad, huh?" Grimmjow started walking, pocketing his hands in his hakama. "Then what do you know about it for?"

Izuru walked a little more quickly to keep up with him. "I was in the Fourth, briefly. My talent in medicine wasn't really enough to keep me there."

"Oh, that's the medical squad?" Grimmjow glanced over him, grinning widely. "You were a nurse, huh? I can see that."

Izuru just looked at him for a moment. Grimmjow had a wide smirk on his face, almost as if daring him to reply.

"It wasn't much to see," he said dryly.

Grimmjow looked back at him for a moment, brow furrowing. Then he laughed, shaking his head, sweeping one arm over to land a few hard claps on Izuru's shoulder. He stumbled with a yelp, just barely catching himself on the wall.

"You're a funny guy."

Izuru shook his head a little, lips twitching slightly, then looked around before turning at the next intersection. He was more than aware that Grimmjow's eyes were still on him, but he didn't challenge him. He wasn't sure what to say.

So they walked in silence for a long while, the tiny hairs on the back of Izuru's neck prickling each time Grimmjow's eyes fixed on him. It seemed like an eternity before he stopped, checking a marking on the wall and turning down a small side hallway.

"What, this is it?" Grimmjow looked around, craning his neck to see the ceiling.

Izuru tried the handle of a small door, then glanced back at him with a weak smile. "It's not much, but… well, it's not much."

Grimmjow leaned down, peering through the crack as he opened the door. "Wasn't expecting much."

As Izuru had expected, the room was empty, except for some old medical supplies and a large crate marked for delivery to the Fourth Division. He held the door open, letting Grimmjow go in, then glanced quickly up and down the waterway before following.

Grimmjow was already pacing the length of the room when he came inside. He looked up when the door clicked shut, then perked up and took a few steps over to Izuru. For a moment, Izuru could almost see the bars between them- this was no different. This was a new prison, just another place. He took one more step closer, bending his head down to see him better, and Izuru had to resist the urge to take a step back.

"Nice little place you've got here," he said, turning his head a little to the side. "So what's your plan now, Kira Izuru?"

Izuru cleared his throat, but held still. Clearly, the concept of personal space wasn't one that came easily to Grimmjow. "I don't know," he said honestly, keeping his eyes on the side of his face. "No one will look for you down here, I'm certain of that. This room is beneath my squad house, so I can get down here easily to get you food. I'm sure they'll notice you're gone soon, and Soul Society will be on high alert, but…"

"You're gonna take care of me?" Grimmjow took a step forward. Their bodies brushed, and Izuru took a step back.

"I'm the one who brought you here. I said I'd take responsibility for you."

"You don't have to, y'know." Grimmjow took another step forward, and the smirk was largely gone from his face. "Don't put your neck on the line for somebody you barely know. It's stupid."

"I know." Izuru swallowed, holding still a moment more this time. Grimmjow was pressed flush against him, shoulders bent a little to keep his cheek near to Izuru's. As he held still, Grimmjow inhaled- the warm air rushed over his cheek, his neck, and Izuru closed his eyes for just a moment.

"Then why do it?"

"Because I-" Izuru took a step back, and his heel caught in the hem of his hakama. One sharp tug, and he was stumbling backwards. This time, Grimmjow did nothing to catch him, and he hit the floor hard. The only thing he could feel over the pain in his backside was the growing heat in his cheeks.

Grimmjow shook his head, going down on one knee. "Not real good on your feet, huh?" He reached one hand forward.

Izuru laughed sheepishly, lifting a hand to take his. "You've been catching me on a lot of off days."

Grimmjow's hand went right past his, stopping on his shoulder. Izuru froze, looking up at him for some kind of explanation. His face was quiet, even serious, but there was an intensity in his eyes that struck him. It was enough to keep him still even as Grimmjow pushed him to his back and crawled up over him, a knee on either side of his legs.

"Grimmjow," he said, eyes following his. "What-"

He caught his breath suddenly when Grimmjow ducked his head, inhaling slowly against his cheek. Izuru held still, not daring to move. Grimmjow's nose bumped his cheek, a tiny inhale tickling over his jaw. Then the plate of bone scraped lightly against his chin before bumping the skin of his throat. He arched his neck without thinking, letting him move his cheek over his throat, barely breathing. Each little inhale sent prickles down the back of his neck.

He was _sniffing_ him.

The realization both sent a little shock through his body to lump in his stomach and made him swallow his next breath to avoid laughing. Izuru stared blindly at the ceiling, just letting Grimmjow breathe against his skin until he lifted his head.

"You all right?" he said, voice low, almost rumbling a little in his chest.

Izuru nodded slightly, taking in a deep breath. "I… I'm fine."

Grimmjow leaned down, face directly in his, their foreheads touching. Izuru met his eyes, unwavering.

"You're not afraid of me," he said, eyes searching.

"No," Izuru agreed. "I'm not."

He wasn't. Even completely at his mercy like this, there was no fear- only a fluttering anxiety of a completely different sort that made it a little hard to keep centered.

Hinamori had made him feel childish, even silly. Captain Ichimaru had left him nervous, unsteady, fascinated, even sick. Grimmjow- Grimmjow instilled in him some strange kind of calm, like he could take on any obstacle. Even Grimmjow himself.

So when he kissed him, Izuru just laid a hand on the back of his head and kissed him back. Firmly. Warmly.

Maybe he could handle this after all.


	7. Chapter 5

The crate in the corner probably had bedclothes and spare pillows in it.

That was Izuru's guess. During his short time in the Fourth Company, he had placed his own fair share of orders for new sheets and unpacked just as many boxes. Being as those sheets were used for hospital beds, they usually ended up stained in blood and other various bodily fluids, and there was only so much a washing could do.

So before he left, they could make up something for Grimmjow to sleep in. It might not be the most comfortable, but it would probably be much better than what he'd had in the cell.

There was a strange clarity to his thoughts, even as a hot puff of air against his throat set every nerve on edge. Izuru closed his eyes for a moment, taking a long breath to steady himself.

"Grimmjow," he said, laying his hands on his shoulders.

There was a distinct pause, but Grimmjow lifted his head, meeting his eyes.

Izuru hesitated for a moment, then lifted a hand, tracing the tips of his fingers over the bone plating on Grimmjow's jaw. He took in a quick breath, and Izuru almost stopped- but he was only watching his hand curiously.

"I really need to go," he tried, watching his face. "It'll be morning soon."

"You can wait a few more minutes," he said, turning his face to ghost his mouth over Izuru's waiting fingertips. "Right?"

He took a moment to shiver, then pushed up a little on his elbows, trying to sit up. "Not really," he said patiently. "They'll know you're gone in just a few hours. If I'm not back, then-"

"Then you'll be suspect," Grimmjow finished. "Right?"

Izuru just nodded. There was a building feeling of unease in the back of his mind, and he couldn't quite pin down where it was coming from. There was no accusation in Grimmjow's eyes- in fact, he was pulling back, giving Izuru room to get up.

He got to his feet, then went over to the crate. The lid was already half off, so all he had to do was push it. There were sheets inside, just like he had suspected. Izuru started pulling them out, setting them down on the floor next to him.

"What're you doing?" Grimmjow's voice came from much closer than he had expected- he was standing right behind him.

"These are spare bedclothes," Izuru said, managing to keep a calm in his voice that was fast deserting him. "There's no reason you should have to sleep on the floor."

"Oh." Grimmjow moved over to the quickly-growing pile of sheets, leaning down to inspect them. "That's good, I guess."

He reached the bottom of the crate and pulled out a few small pillows. Good enough. Putting them aside, Izuru turned to the sheets and started straightening them out. Every move he made, Grimmjow followed- sometimes directly behind him- and it made the process much longer than it would have been otherwise. Their hips bumped. Sometimes he leaned down over his shoulder to see, and Izuru ended up elbowing him in the stomach. On at least one occasion, someone stepped on someone's foot.

It felt like it took forever, but finally Izuru took a step back- nearly tripping over Grimmjow in the process- and felt like what he was looking at was a suitable bed. At least for now.

"So that's for me?"

Izuru nodded, unable to squelch a little bit of pride for his work. "It's not fancy, but hopefully it'll be better than the cot you had."

Grimmjow nodded, taking a few steps around the bundle of sheets. A moment of silence passed, then he looked up at him again, hands resting in the slits of his hakama. "You should go," he said seriously. "Don't put your neck on the line for me."

Izuru wasn't sure why he hesitated. But he just knelt down, fixing the fold of some of the blankets.

"I mean it." Grimmjow stepped up next to him, and for the second time Izuru noticed he was barefoot. "You did enough. You don't owe me anything."

"I know that." Izuru picked himself up, then busied himself with brushing invisible dust off the front of his hakama.

"Then why haven't you gone yet?"

He stared down at the makeshift bed. There were no more blankets to fix, and his hakama were clean. And yet he couldn't bring himself to look up.

"I can't… just leave you here," he said finally, voice halting.

"What? There something wrong with this place?" Grimmjow spread his hands, taking an exaggerated look around. "The Soul Society police gonna bust down the door the second you walk out?"

"No!" Izuru protested, lifting his head before he thought. "It's not that, it's just-"

A hand caught his chin, and Grimmjow had tugged him a few steps over the floor before Izuru had managed to finish the sentence. "Then there's no reason for you t' feel like you gotta stay," he said sharply, eyes on his. "I'm fine. I don't need no babysitter, especially one who's putting his head on the chopping block to be here."

"Maybe you don't need me," Izuru said, becoming more and more aware of that sinking feeling- it was something he knew, something he could almost grasp. "But I- I need to be here. I need to know that you're okay, that-" And there he struggled, biting the inside of his cheek, losing his words.

"That what?" Grimmjow pressed, thumb on his chin, forehead touching his.

"I…" Izuru swallowed. His throat was dry. Something in his chest hurt.

"You need something." His eyes were hard, but his voice was low, cloaking him in something almost understanding. Almost gentle. "Tell me what it is."

"All I know is it has something to do with you," he said, and all it took was the words passing his lips for him to realize that it was the truth.

Grimmjow just looked at him for a moment, and then Izuru felt his hand on the small of his back, pulling him closer. He caught himself on his shoulders just as Grimmjow leaned down, tightening his grip on his waist.

"It had better," he growled.

Izuru only had the time to catch his breath before Grimmjow crushed his mouth to his, kissing him fiercely. He didn't resist- in fact, he found himself pressing up against his chest, arms sliding loosely around his shoulders. Grimmjow held him tightly around the waist, teeth dragging a little against his lip, nipping and tugging at the delicate skin until he wrung a tiny sound out of him.

"Grimmjow," he said against his mouth, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. "We should- we should talk about this."

"I'm done talkin'," he said, hand firm on his back, eyes heavy and dark. "Words ain't gonna cut it for what I wanna say."

Izuru took a deep breath, flattening his hands momentarily against Grimmjow's back. It didn't take a genius to see what he meant, or where this was going. His heart was in his throat. There were shivers going down his spine.

It wasn't such a big thing. People did it every day. Just because the last time he had done it had been with someone who had nearly destroyed him, that didn't mean anything about this time.

He couldn't let Captain Ichimaru's memory overshadow the rest of his life.

"This is a bad idea," he said softly, searching his eyes.

"You can still stop me," Grimmjow said, and his face was serious, even solemn.

Izuru lifted a hand and laid it against his cheek, fingers tracing idly over the hard edge of his jaw. Grimmjow just watched him, holding him tightly to his chest, shoulders rising and falling visibly with each breath.

He could stop him. It was his choice.

He pulled a little at Grimmjow's shoulders and pushed up, catching his mouth firmly. Grimmjow let out a little sigh, wrapping one arm around his waist and pulling him flush to his chest. Izuru had just started to relax again when he leaned abruptly to the side, free arm snaking under his knees and lifting him clean off the ground.

Izuru couldn't suppress a moment of unreasonable pride when he felt how comfortable the makeshift bed was under his back. He'd certainly slept in a lot worse. Grimmjow flopped down next to him, and for a moment they both looked at the ceiling, quiet.

He took a deep breath.

He hadn't even exhaled all the way before Grimmjow moved over him, a hand on either side of his head, straddling his thighs. Izuru reached up almost automatically, placing a hand on either shoulder, meeting his eyes.

"You still sure?" Grimmjow leaned down, bumping his nose into his cheek.

Izuru closed his eyes for a moment, a shiver running down his spine, letting the last few reservations hold on a moment more before pushing them aside.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm sure."

For the second time he could remember, Grimmjow smiled. It was genuine, almost hesitant- like he wasn't quite sure how. It was endearing in its own way, and Izuru couldn't help but smile back. In turn, he couldn't really help reaching up to pull him down, touching a soft kiss to his mouth.

Grimmjow's eyes searched his for a moment, and then he kissed him back- firm, even hard, a soft breath huffing against his mouth. He slid his arms around his shoulders, just hanging on loosely. Grimmjow was braced on his knees and his elbows, but the reality was that his full weight was only scant centimeters away. His body heat was prickling along Izuru's skin, curling over his nerves and pulling out tiny shudders.

He was so close, but they were barely touching at all.

Grimmjow nipped sharply at his lip, drawing out a gasp, and then his mouth was heavy over his jaw, one hand flattening on his shoulder. Izuru found his fingers working restlessly over his shoulders, his heart beating so hard it ached. A long kiss settled over the heartbeat in his throat, and he took in a deep breath, trying to settle himself.

"You weren't scared before," Grimmjow said against his throat, fingers plucking at the sleeves of his haori. "Why are you now?"

"I'm not scared," he said softly, eyes focusing somewhere on the ceiling. "I'm nervous."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Grimmjow pulled the haori open, tugging it up out of his hakama in one swift jerk.

Izuru shook his head a little, shrugging his shoulders to let it slide off. "No. I don't think so."

He just grunted in reply, evidently more interested in the skin he had bared. Izuru watched his face, more than aware of how his chest was moving, up and down- it made it obvious just how unsteady each breath was becoming. Grimmjow laid a hand on his side, eyes flicking up to meet his, and then teeth closed sharply on an exposed nipple.

It was a sudden jolt of pain, and Izuru jumped, unable to hold back a tiny yelp. Grimmjow looked up at him again, but made no move to pull away. Instead, he opened his jaw a little until it was just the ends of his teeth worrying against the tender skin, little huffs of breath sending prickles down his spine. Grimmjow kept eye contact, then quirked an eyebrow and flicked the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He shuddered, closing his eyes for a moment.

"You like that," Grimmjow whispered, pulling back, his lips curling in a tiny smile.

Izuru swallowed, taking a moment to let the shivers calm before opening his eyes. "I, um," he managed, looking down at him. "…Yeah."

He grinned, widely enough that the bone over his jaw twitched, then ducked his head and bit suddenly at the other nipple before taking it in his teeth and sucking hard. Izuru gasped, fingers digging into Grimmjow's shoulder, eyes squeezing shut for a moment- that only encouraged him, and he didn't pull away until he was out of breath.

There was a fluttering in his stomach, and it was making it hard to breathe.

He went to sit up, but Grimmjow caught him halfway, sliding an arm around his waist and kissing him hard. Izuru flattened his hand on his back, unable to swallow a low sigh, then wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him up against him before he let himself hesitate.

Grimmjow caught his breath against his mouth, shifting a little against him. Izuru pulled back a little, looking over his face. He was just a little flushed, jaw hanging as he breathed. He laid his hands on his cheeks, smoothing his thumbs lightly over the skin- smoother than he would have expected. Grimmjow snapped a little at his fingers, almost teasing.

"Hey," Izuru protested weakly.

Grimmjow just laughed. It was a rough, throaty sound, and Izuru found himself leaning closer, almost without thinking. "Relax, I'm not gonna hurt ya," he said, eyes crinkling just a little at the edges.

"I'm not afraid of you," he said, a little surprised at the strength in his own voice. "I know you won't."

Grimmjow looked pleased, then pulled back, hands laying lightly on his sides. "You should lay down," he suggested. There was a little tenseness in his jaw, almost as though he were expecting a negative reaction.

He laid a hand on his cheek for a moment, looking over his face. Grimmjow leaned a little into his hand. For a moment, he wanted to ask why he was uncertain, where the sudden hesitation was coming from in someone that filled with so much bravado- but instead he just nodded, easing down onto his back.

There would be time enough for that later.

Grimmjow relaxed a little when he moved, and the hands on his sides went immediately to the knot of his hakama. Izuru watched him work at it, swallowing back the lump that was forming in his throat. His fingers made quick work of the white belt, casting the two ends aside carelessly in favor of pulling down the pants themselves.

Izuru was aware that his ears were turning red. It wasn't as though there were anything particularly interesting to look at on the ceiling, but that was where he focused his eyes. Grimmjow's hands fell to his hips, and he shivered at the touch, the cool air just intensifying the tremor.

"You cold?" Izuru could feel Grimmjow's eyes on him. He kept his gaze fixed resolutely on the ceiling.

"I'm okay," he managed, lips twitching in a tiny, sheepish smile. "It's just- a little cold in here, that's all."

"Oh." Grimmjow's hands flattened on his hips, then moved down his thighs, the palms rubbing lightly over the skin, as though trying to warm him. His thumbs dragged to the insides of his thighs, and Izuru's hips jerked suddenly- it was just a startle reaction, but he could just feel Grimmjow grinning, and the flush on his cheeks was extending down his neck. Teeth snapped lightly at his hipbone, and he shuddered, heels shifting against the floor in an attempt to hold still.

"You're getting hard," Grimmjow said, and Izuru bit down hard on the inside of his cheek when he folded one hand between his legs and stroked his fingertips lightly against the sides of the shaft. "That's good."

"Mmph," Izuru replied, not allowing himself to open his mouth while those fingers worked almost curiously over the swelling skin. Every time Grimmjow moved his hand, his hips jumped, prickles dancing over the skin. With every stroke of his fingertips, his grip was growing more and more secure, until Grimmjow had just taken Izuru into his hand and was working him with full, rough strokes.

Izuru lifted a hand, grabbing onto Grimmjow's bicep. It felt like it had been forever. Grimmjow pushed up onto his knees, leaning over him, moving unavoidably into his field of vision, and Izuru was almost able to glance aside before he took hold of his chin with his free hand.

"What's wrong?" Grimmjow's eyes were a little heavy, searching his. "No good?"

"N-no, it's-" Izuru caught his breath hard, lifting his other hand and grabbing onto his shoulders. He couldn't manage any more than that- not when their eyes were locked, when Grimmjow could see every twitch in his cheek and tense of his jaw and watch every tiny gasp for air.

"It's okay?" Grimmjow prodded. He was still stroking his fingers over him, every few moments squeezing a little.

"…Yeah," he said, a little surprised at how his voice cracked. His legs were shaking, something tightening in his stomach. "It's-" What he had meant to say, whatever nonsense it was, strangled in his throat and came out as a whimpering sigh. He couldn't take much more of this.

Grimmjow kissed him lightly, even softly, but his hand was working over him relentlessly, barely giving him a moment to breathe. Izuru held tightly to his shoulders, every muscle in his legs starting to tense, breath coming in huffing gasps against his mouth. Izuru's lips formed the shape of Grimmjow's name, unable to put more sound to it than a stuttering moan.

He was going to come. He was going to come. He was going to-

A moment later- one desperate, soul-burning moment later- Izuru slumped back, eyes half-closed, gulping in air like he had been drowning. His hands ached a little, and he uncurled his fingers from Grimmjow's shoulders, smoothing his palms down his back in apology for the marks he was certain he'd left on him.

"That was good?" Grimmjow grinned at him, looking pleased. Izuru managed a nod and a smile, leaving his hands on his back. That was apparently answer enough, and Grimmjow leaned down to kiss him again, more firmly this time. Izuru squeezed his shoulders a little, letting his eyes fall closed.

He was aware that Grimmjow's free hand was fumbling at the knot of his own belt, but it was easier to just focus on the hot mouth on his, the muscles tensing and flexing under his hands. It wasn't like the thought bothered him- in fact, when the edge of the belt fell open over his thigh, he shivered, breath catching in his throat. He couldn't look. He was afraid to look. But he wanted to look.

"I'm takin' these off," Grimmjow said against his mouth. Izuru nodded a little, daring to open his eyes halfway, letting them track down over his chest, to his hip, to-

"You like what you see?"

Izuru flushed, catching his breath. "Um." He could feel Grimmjow smile just a little against his cheek. Izuru flattened his hands against his back, trying to pull him down a little more. He met resistance and looked up, puzzled.

Grimmjow's eyes met his, steady, searching. "Tell me how to do this," he said firmly.

For a moment, he just looked at him, uncomprehending. "You…"

"What?" He looked impatient.

"You've done this before," Izuru prodded. It wasn't exactly a question, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't expect an answer.

Maybe he was imagining it, but Grimmjow's cheeks darkened, if only slightly. "I- well, yeah!" he blustered, face tensing a little into a scowl. "I- I just- well- not like this, that's all."

For a moment, he considered asking for clarification. But Grimmjow was frowning more and more by the second, and instead he just moved a hand to touch his cheek, stroking his fingertips over the bone plate, soothing. "Okay. Just- just do what you want, Grimmjow. That's all you need to know."

Grimmjow shook his head stubbornly. "No. I do it wrong and I'm gonna hurt you."

"Grimmjow-"

"No," he said again, brow creasing, eyes flashing. "I ain't gonna do this t' hurt you, I'm not- I'm not him."

Izuru left his hand on his cheek, stroking the skin lightly, suddenly acutely aware of the tiny amount of uncertainty in Grimmjow's eyes. Who the nebulous 'him' was, there was no need to ask- while each of them would have given a different name, the differences were negligible to none.

"I trust you," he said instead. "I'm not 'him', either."

Grimmjow touched his forehead to his briefly, lingering a moment. "Yeah, I know."

When he pulled him closer this time, Grimmjow didn't resist. Izuru wrapped his arms around his back, squeezing him briefly, then pulled his feet up a little over the sheets, bending his knees and pressing the inside of his thighs lightly to his hips. It was okay- it wasn't as if he didn't know how to do this. Just because he hadn't been anywhere near being the lead in a long time didn't mean he had forgotten how.

Grimmjow braced over him, eyes heavy, the heat of his skin radiating against his. "It's okay?" he prodded. "Just like this?"

"It's okay," he said softly, shifting a little on the makeshift bed and pulling his legs up as much as he could without making it too uncomfortable. "Just… take your time, okay?"

Grimmjow laughed a little, a hand smoothing down his thigh. "I… yeah. Yeah, I know." For a moment he just pressed down against him, skin to skin, and Izuru could feel his heart beating- almost as fast as his own. He looked uncertain. He was hesitating. Izuru opened his mouth to repeat his reassurance, then paused.

Just like turning on a light, his face had relaxed and his eyes had hardened in resolve. Grimmjow lifted the hand from his thigh, taking two fingers between his teeth and sucking at them swiftly before pulling them back out. The hand moved back down his leg, fingertips leaving wet trails over the skin, then stopped at the inside of his thigh.

Grimmjow hesitated. Izuru just kept his eyes on his face, smiling just a little, encouraging.

He pushed one finger inside of him in one rough, swift jerk- it stung, but it was over quickly. Izuru let out a long breath through his teeth, forcing himself to relax bit by bit.

"Okay?" Grimmjow prodded. His voice was tight.

Izuru just nodded a little, breathing shallowly. "I'm used to it hurting," he said without thinking. "It's okay."

"It's not gonna hurt," Grimmjow muttered, but he pushed in the second finger just as quickly as the first. Izuru jerked, digging his fingers a little into his shoulder, shifting his hips until the stinging eased. Grimmjow's eyes were locked on his face, and he took in one slow breath before moving his fingers a little, the tips curling inside him.

Izuru watched his face, concentrating on breathing steadily. It wasn't really working, and when Grimmjow twisted his wrist and forced his fingers open a little, he couldn't swallow past the knot in his throat. His hips were starting to jerk a little with each movement of Grimmjow's fingers, and he could see the tiny smile growing on his face.

Then Grimmjow pulled his hand back, and he sagged just a little, feeling empty and anxious and so many things he didn't have words for. He didn't look away from him, and for a moment Grimmjow just fumbled for something to hold onto, and then he shifted and pushed and he was inside him.

Izuru took in a sharp, hitching breath, squeezing his eyes shut. It was okay. He could handle this. There were times before that had been so much worse- now, Grimmjow was braced over him, holding stock-still, not budging. Giving him time to relax. Izuru shifted against him, and Grimmjow caught his breath hard against his ear. He waited a moment more, letting out a heavy breath and smoothing a hand over his shoulder, then whispered a barely audible "I'm okay" into his cheek.

Grimmjow moved a little to see his face, breathing hard. Izuru nodded just a little, not letting go of his shoulders. He nodded back, then closed his eyes halfway, bracing a hand on the bed next to him.

Then he started to move- jerky, unsteady, at a slightly uncomfortable angle- but his eyes were screwed shut and he was breathing in sharp gasps, the muscles tensed in his shoulders. Izuru held onto his shoulders, tugging him down against his chest and pulling his knees up as high as he could manage. For a moment, Grimmjow just shifted a little, brow creased, and he waited, keeping his breathing slow.

Grimmjow pulled back a little, then thrust back into him slowly, almost experimentally. Izuru let out a sigh, a shudder sweeping down his back. "There," he whispered. "You've got it." Grimmjow nodded sharply, then kept moving, hands flattening against the mattress. It took a few tries for him to catch his rhythm, but when he did, it was fast and hard. Almost desperate. And he was breathing in huffing gasps, leaning down to brush his cheek on Izuru's, yanking sharply at the folded sheets under him.

"Shit," he said, starting to lose his rhythm, jerking into deeper, harder. "Oh, shit-"

His breath was knotting in his chest. Izuru didn't let go of his shoulders, trying to keep his eyes on his face- trying to concentrate at all, and losing control thread by thread. He could feel himself pushing back against him, legs tensing, and he moved his hands down Grimmjow's shoulders to grab onto his biceps. The muscles were hard under his hands, and he could feel the hot puffs of air against his cheek getting faster, irregular.

One hand pulled away from Grimmjow's bicep, working between their stomachs- Izuru stroked himself hard in a blind attempt to ease the throbbing ache, and Grimmjow ducked his head to catch his mouth in a crushing kiss. He had left any semblance of control behind and was just pounding into him, a throaty growl vibrating against Izuru's mouth.

It only took a few quick pulls of his hand before Izuru was dissolving into jerks and shakes, his legs tensing and squeezing desperately against Grimmjow's sides. Grimmjow barely seemed to notice, panting hot against his cheek with his last few frenzied thrusts before he came, letting out a strangled groan inches from his ear.

Izuru didn't open his eyes for a moment, his chest heaving, his heart beating in his throat. He could feel Grimmjow's arm trembling under his hand, and he squeezed it a little.

"Are you okay?" Grimmjow's voice was rough, still hitching from lack of air.

"Yeah." Izuru forced his eyes open, at least halfway, and managed a little bit of an encouraging smile. "I'm fine."

Grimmjow just looked at him for a moment, then he smiled back- a tired twitch of the lips, more than anything else, but it was something- and leaned down to brush a light kiss over his mouth before pulling back, flopping down heavily onto his back beside him.

Again, they both stared at the ceiling. Izuru was more than aware that it was going to take him a few minutes to even think of words, and so he just let himself breathe, relaxing already-sore muscles and trying to slow his heart down.

"At least stay until I'm asleep, all right?"

Izuru turned his head a little to the side. Grimmjow was looking at him, eyes heavy.

"Of course," he said, smiling a little more than before.

"Then get yourself outta here and think up your alibi." Grimmjow stretched, then favored him with a little bit of a grin before curling up easily in the sheets. "Who else is gonna feed me?"

"Right," he agreed, not knowing what else to say.

It took minutes- or less- for Grimmjow's breathing to fall into a shallow, regular pattern. For all Izuru could tell, he was sleeping comfortably. On some level, that comforted him.

It felt like hours before he was able to get up, gather his clothes and get them back on. Grimmjow continued to sleep, face relaxed, sheets wound around his legs. Izuru knelt down briefly, adjusting the sheets around him, and let his eyes linger for a moment on his face. Then the reiatsu suppressor around his neck.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he said softly.

Grimmjow snored, and he smiled.


	8. Chapter 6

When he had woken up the next morning, Izuru had honestly expected Soul Society to be in a flurry of activity and fear. There was an Espada on the loose, after all. That was worth at least as much security as had been enacted after Aizen's faked death. But when he had looked out the window, people had been walking through the streets just like any other day. Everything was normal.

For a moment, he had wondered if it had all been a dream. But then he'd shifted away from the window in just the wrong way, and the twinge of pain indicated otherwise. Izuru let out a tiny breath, wincing, and took his time picking himself up out of bed.

Once the haze of sleep cleared from his mind, he couldn't bring himself to be surprised. It would be foolish for a security alert to be put out for a situation that Soul Society at large was unaware of. There would be an outcry if the first mention of the captured Espada was that one had gotten loose. With the Seireitei so unstable as it was, he couldn't even bring himself to be that upset about the deception.

At least it would make it easier for him to pretend nothing was going on.

The first thing Izuru did that morning (after dressing and making sure the red marks all over his body were suitably hidden from view) was go to the Academy cafeteria and beg some extra food. He'd found a long time ago that as long as he had a decent excuse- working late, a slim paycheck, a stray animal- the workers there were glad to give away the extra.

He'd taken the food down to the waterway, but Grimmjow had been asleep. It had been hard to resist waking him, even if it was just to say hello, but he'd managed it.

He'd had to get back to work, anyway. Even if it seemed like it was taking ages just to read through one report. He kept stopping to look out the window, to get up and walk around, to sit down on the bed and stretch. He couldn't concentrate.

It was torture to force himself through the things that absolutely needed to be done, and in the end, he didn't end up finishing at all. Izuru couldn't remember the last time he had left his office with anything in the 'to-do' pile, but he just couldn't make himself do anymore. Not until he had cleared his head.

So he had gone for a walk, under the pretext of dropping off some old papers. It was nice to get some fresh air, to say hello to distant acquaintances and a few actual friends. He'd stopped by the Fourth Division to see Abarai- he probably didn't still need to be there, but they were insisting. He had been happy for the company, and it had been good to see him well.

It was hard to keep his mind off of Grimmjow. He knew that it was a good chance he was still asleep, curled up in the borrowed sheets with his face buried in the pillow the same as he'd left him, but even enjoying the fresh air left him with a pang of guilt.

He had only moved him to a different prison.

"Izuru, I've been talking to you for five minutes! Where is your _head_?"

Izuru yelped and dropped the folder. The moment he slowed down, two arms wrapped firmly around his midsection, dragging him back against what felt like two pillows wrapped in a haori.

"I'm sorry, Matsumoto-san," he said, struggling a little. "I was lost in thought."

"I could tell!" She squeezed, then let him go in favor of stepping up beside him. "I haven't seen you for a while- you've been busy, huh?"

"You could say that." Izuru started walking again, knowing she would keep pace with him. "How's your side?"

Matsumoto waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it's fine, it's fine. You did a good job patching me up." Izuru started to shake his head, and she just pushed a little at his shoulder, laughing. "Oh, come on, don't be modest."

Izuru smiled a little. "I can't help it."

"I know." She patted his hair and ruffled a little. Izuru cleared his throat, looking away. Matsumoto had a way of embarrassing him when he was reasonably sure she wasn't even trying.

A moment of silence passed, and he glanced over at her, angling his face to hide behind his hair. It was more habit than anything else- when someone was on his left side, it meant they couldn't see his eyes, and that often gave him a few valuable seconds of investigation. Matsumoto was walking with a slight hitch- holding herself a little more to one side than the other to compensate for the lingering pain in her side. It seemed strangely fitting that it was the sway of her breasts that gave it away.

"You should be resting," he said, looking back up to her face, turning his head so she could see his eyes.

Matsumoto laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Come on. You know me. How much work do I actually do?"

He sighed, giving up. There was no use in pushing it anymore. Matsumoto had a reputation for being relaxed about most things, but he knew just as well as anyone that she had a stubborn streak in her a mile wide. She was stronger than she looked, and he would never dream of trying to change that.

"I'm just on my way to get something to eat anyway." Matsumoto lifted a hand, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Captain Hitsugaya kicked me out, said I was getting on his nerves. And here I've been doing extra work for him so he can go to his stupid 'secret meetings'."

Izuru raised an eyebrow. "Are the captains meeting more often?"

"Oh, yeah." She adjusted her scarf. "You know… Huecco Mundo stuff." Matsumoto turned her face, giving him an over-exaggerated wink. "All that super-official secret stuff. Like we weren't part of that clean-up crew in the first place."

He just nodded, looking straight ahead. That was right- while Matsumoto hadn't come with them to Huecco Mundo, having been grievously injured at the time, she had been there when they'd left. There was no way she knew what the captains were really meeting about, if it was actually all the captains in the first place. He couldn't be sure who knew anything. Or who knew he knew.

Two arms wrapped around one of his, effectively silencing his worry. "Come eat with me, huh? I'm lonely."

At that he couldn't help but laugh, looking over at her. "Say that a little louder, you'll have all the company you want."

Matsumoto laughed too, shaking her head. "Well, I-" And then she paused, eyes narrowing, her pace slowing to a stop.

Izuru blinked, stopping too. Someone sidestepped around him, and he was in the process of turning to apologize when she grabbed his chin, dragging him into her field of vision.

"Matsumoto-san?" he said weakly. The look on her face was one of fierce concentration, and it was making him more than a little nervous. Had it been naïve of him to think Captain Hitsugaya wouldn't tell her? He was a stickler for the rules, but they trusted each other implicitly.

After Aizen had left Soul Society, Izuru had expected Matsumoto and Captain Hitsugaya to turn him in for his complicity. They hadn't, and he was more than grateful. But he knew he couldn't expect them to look away the second time.

She leaned forward a little, looking from side to side. She tugged his chin down a little, forcing his mouth open just a little. Then she pushed it up, arching his neck. Then her hand moved from his chin entirely, and swept downwards, yanking the front of his haori open.

"Matsumoto-san!" he protested, feeling his ears heat.

She looked over his chest for a moment, eyes narrowed, then pulled back, breasts bouncing with the movement as she moved her hands to her hips. "Kira Izuru!" she pronounced, gray eyes sparkling. "Did you get laid?"

Izuru just stared at her. He was vaguely aware of his jaw dropping.

"You did!" she squealed, clapping her hands. "Oooh, Izuruuu! Tell me all about it!"

He coughed, shaking his head, trying to get his calm back. "Matsumoto-san- I- n-no, it's just-"

Matsumoto grabbed his hands, pulling him out of the main thoroughfare. Izuru stumbled after her. "Come on!" she crowed, squeezing his hands. "It's about time! We're friends, tell me all about it!" When he hesitated, she just laughed and squeezed his hands again. "You don't have to pretend, don't be silly. It's obvious."

"…It is?" Izuru sighed, giving up. She would have dragged it out of him eventually. So he just started walking again, knowing she would keep pace with him.

Matsumoto walked close to his side, hands behind her back, leaned forward just a little to keep an eye on his face. "Well, a girl knows, Izuru. Besides, I can see the teeth marks on your lip."

He raised an eyebrow. "How do you know I didn't bite my own lip?"

She shrugged, smiling. "That's why I looked at your chest. Got some little marks there too, y'know…" When he flushed, Matsumoto laughed. "You got yourself a fiesty one, huh?"

"You could say that," he mumbled, looking aside.

Matsumoto giggled, taking a step to the side and bumping into him deliberately. "So…? Come on, who is it? Tell me! I'm not gonna stop bothering you until you do!"

Izuru looked over at her, biting his lip. She just smiled at him brightly, expectant.

"I can't," he said softly, glancing away. He couldn't risk it. There would be no excuse for getting Matsumoto mixed up in this mess- she had her own life to deal with, and she had already covered for him once before. He couldn't imagine imposing on her again.

And she would have every right to call him a traitor, leading a prison break for a captive Espada. He couldn't bear that.

Matsumoto frowned prettily, full lips pursing. "Come on, I'd tell you!"

"I- I know, but-" He looked away again, wincing inwardly. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"…Was it Gin?"

Izuru stopped in his tracks, a lump starting in his throat and settling uncomfortably in his stomach. Her voice had gone deadly serious. It was ridiculous that he immediately felt so guilty- especially when it wasn't true. He shook his head immediately, hard enough that it almost dizzied him. "No," he said emphatically. "No."

Matsumoto relaxed visibly, smiling again. Then she raised an eyebrow, looking mildly pensive. "Was it Captain Hitsugaya?"

At that he couldn't help but stifle an embarrassed laugh, the lump in his stomach dissolving. "What? I- no!"

She put her hands back on her hips for a moment, then laughed and nudged him, starting to walk again. "Then what are you worried about? Come on, don't be so shy. Who do you think you're talking to?"

Izuru shook his head, walking alongside her again. "Matsumoto-san… there are plenty of other options that are cause for worry."

She waved a hand at him, then turned into the cafeteria. Izuru followed after her, following her cue and falling silent as they picked up their food. Taking a closer look at it, he had to admit he wasn't entirely sure what the dish itself was supposed to be. It still smelled vaguely appetizing, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

Matsumoto led him to a small table, and when they sat down, she was watching him expectantly. Izuru swallowed hard, looking down at the plate. Maybe he could eat fast.

"Is he hot?"

Luckily, he hadn't quite taken the first bite. Izuru set his utensil back down and took a moment to gather himself.

"I'm not telling you anything," he said primly, not looking at her. "You might as well stop asking."

Matsumoto pouted, leaning her chin on the heels of her palms. "Come oooon," she complained. "Why's it got to be such a big secret? I don't gossip!" All it took was one stern look, and she dissolved, giggling. "Okay, okay. Look, we don't have to name names, just- just tell me about him, okay?"

Izuru hesitated a moment more, looking down at his plate. Maybe he owed her that much. And without explaining who he was, well… how much harm could it do?

"Okay," he relented, and he could see her face light up. That in itself was worth it.

Matsumoto set into her own lunch, eyes fixed on him. "Okay, then spill! Don't spare the gory details!"

Izuru let out a heavy sigh, settling uncomfortably in his chair. She was watching him closely, seemingly unaware of the noodle hanging from her lips.

"He's…" For a moment, he struggled for the words- any words. How could he describe Grimmjow? How could anyone describe him, in just a few sentences? Without the feeling of his hands, the scent of his skin, the dangerous quirk of his mouth when he grinned? He would need a pen and paper. He would need a painting, or one of the haiku he wrote for the periodical.

"He's rough," he said instead, knowing the words were woefully inaccurate. "He's- not carefree, but casual, almost. Like he knows the rules don't apply to him and he wouldn't care if they did. He's brash, and tough, but almost- sometimes I can see what he's hiding, like he doesn't mind if I look-" Izuru cut himself off, becoming aware of the building heat in his ears.

"Wow," Matsumoto said, her chin still in one hand. There was a little smile on her face. "You've really got it bad for this guy, huh, Izuru."

He looked down at his plate. His cheeks were hot now, too.

"I… I guess so," he said, barely audible.

It was a hard thing to admit, even to himself. It wasn't that it was a surprising thing- in fact, it had become almost obvious embarrassingly fast. Izuru wasn't the type to just fall into bed with someone, even on a rebound. But it had all just come so easily. Even though every step he took had led him farther and farther away from where he was comfortable- heading a prison break, hiding a fugitive- on some strange level, he was enjoying it.

It made him wonder if the him from a few months ago would recognize him now.

"Well, good." Matsumoto's voice was lower, more serious. When he looked back up, she reached across the table and patted his hand. "It'll be good for you. Get some perspective. Just don't let him walk all over you, you hear?"

Izuru shook his head with a little smile. "He won't," he said, no unsteadiness behind his voice. "He's been hurt, too."

"Well, you just be careful." She smiled and squeezed his hand.

For the rest of lunch, Matsumoto relented and steered the conversation to other things. Izuru caught her shooting sly glances at his neck and now-closed haori every few minutes, but thankfully, she didn't push the matter. She was the master of wheedling things out of him, but it appeared she was satisfied, at least for now.

When they left, Matsumoto insisted on following him out, at least to the squad house. He made a point of detailing just how much work he had to do on the way, anticipating a belated invitation to go drinking, but she had just hugged him with a smile and urged him to 'go see your man tonight, loosen up a little'.

He had really meant to get some work done.

But he'd found himself heading down the ladder into the darkness only minutes later, carrying a bag of the remaining spare food between his teeth. It wasn't even dark yet, and there would probably be members of his squad looking for him, but- but somehow, he couldn't summon whatever part of him should worry about it.

He was going to see Grimmjow. The rest could wait.

As he walked the winding hallways, finding his way to the tiny room, he found his mind drifting. What would it be like, to introduce Grimmjow to Matsumoto? To Hinamori, to Hisagi, to Abarai? Would they accept him? Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he couldn't help but think that maybe they would- Abarai and Hisagi, at least. It seemed that at their core, the three of them were very similar. Maybe they would connect, like warriors did. And Hinamori was a sweet girl, he was sure she would try her best to understand him.

It wasn't as though it could ever happen. Grimmjow was a fugitive Espada. If he were someone Izuru had simply passed on the street one day, there would be nothing in the way, but as things were, it was impossible. It had to be. He had already taken enough risks- one that big would be more than foolish, it would be suicidal.

But as many times as he told himself that, in the back of his mind, there was a determination swelling- a feeling that had become more and more familiar over the past few weeks. The same determination that had led him to draw Wabisuke to an Espada, to claim responsibility for him and bring him to Soul Society- and then to break him out of his tiny prison, and to let him further past his defenses than he ever thought he could.

He was going to find a way. Grimmjow had renounced Aizen and come to Soul Society of his own free will- he didn't deserve to be imprisoned, and Izuru was going to find a way to set him free, no matter what it took.

The thought was exhilarating. When he pulled the door open, the heady feeling just made it that much easier to let Grimmjow wrestle him down into the pile of borrowed sheets and kiss him breathless.

He was going to find a way.

But he would do it tomorrow.


	9. Chapter 7

Tomorrow had come far too soon.

Izuru stared at the ceiling. The makeshift bed had turned out to not be that comfortable at all to sleep on. His back ached in all the wrong places, and his neck was already stiff. But he hadn't managed to force himself up just yet.

He knew he needed to get back to the squad house. There was a vice-captains meeting in probably half an hour, and he could use a shower- not to mention something to eat. His stomach was reminding him with sharp pangs that he had already overslept breakfast, and the bag of food he'd brought the night before had been emptied mere seconds after it was opened.

And yet, while he struggled to find a more comfortable position and ignore his stomach at the same time, Grimmjow was curled on his side, face on his arms, dead to the world. Izuru wasn't entirely sure whether the quiet snoring was reassuring or irritating.

The next growl in his stomach had a distinctly ominous note to it, and Izuru sighed, forcing himself up. There was no possible way he was going to make it to this meeting- he was a good fifteen-minute walk away as it was, not to mention starving and smelling thoroughly of sex.

Even knowing that, Izuru was in the middle of trying to wobble to his feet when a hand reached out and snagged his knee. He fell backwards again, landing hard on his backside, and for a moment could do nothing but hiss through his teeth at the pain that lanced through him.

"Sorry," came a muffled voice. "Still sore, huh?"

Izuru took a deep breath, rubbing at his temples. "You're awake, I see."

A moment later, the sheets shifted, and Grimmjow sat up, stretching his arms back behind him. He yawned widely, eyes squeezing shut, back arching so far it looked almost painful. He held that for a moment, then relaxed, arms easing back to his sides, eyes blinking open.

He couldn't help but smile, just a little. "Good morning," he said, a little belatedly.

Grimmjow grunted in reply, then looped an arm around Izuru's waist and pulled him down next to him. "You looked like you were leaving," he said gruffly. "Don't."

"I have to go get food sometime," Izuru reminded, but he stretched out against him regardless. His stomach would put up another complaint in a few minutes, but this was at least much more comfortable than he was before.

"I'll go with you." One arm stayed wrapped lazily around his waist, fingers of his free hand tugging at the ends of Izuru's bangs.

He resisted the urge to bat at his hand and just watched his face. "Grimmjow, you can't," he said, leaning into the grip of his arm. "It'd be dangerous. You know that."

Grimmjow snorted but didn't answer, fingers moving to stroke lightly through his hair.

It was tempting to just lay there. Izuru found his eyes closing, almost of their own will, and he reached a hand up, fingers loose and relaxed against Grimmjow's shoulder.

Then his stomach growled, and he sighed, smoothing his palm over his bicep and pulling away to sit up. "I have to go," he said softly. "I'm hungry. You're hungry. People will be looking for me."

Grimmjow opened one eye, then nodded, stretching out again. "Go on, if you gotta," he said, grudgingly. "I'll be here."

"I know." Izuru attempted to smooth out the wrinkles in his hakama, frowning a little. "But… I hope it won't be for that long. There must be something I can do. Someone I can talk to."

"Yeah. Sure."

He sat up a little, wriggling into his hakama. "I mean it," Izuru insisted, glancing back at him over his shoulder. "There's no reason to keep you locked up. I said I would take responsibility for you, and I'm going to."

"Talkin's not gonna fix anything." Grimmjow rolled over onto his stomach, sheets tangled around his legs. "All these shinigami understand is a smack in the face. Do that."

Izuru shook his head a little, sliding his arms into the sleeves of his haori. "Fighting doesn't solve every problem," he said, getting carefully to his feet before tucking his clothing together in some semblance of decency. "Sometimes, someone has to talk."

When he turned to face him, Grimmjow had propped his chin up on one hand, a dubious expression on his face. "You do what you gotta do, I guess," he shrugged.

"I will," Izuru said. "Trust me."

One eyebrow went up, and Grimmjow sat up a little more. Izuru hid a wince- he was developing a bad habit of speaking without thinking. Trust was a tricky thing in any situation, but here, it was almost offensive to assume.

"…Sure," Grimmjow said, lips curling just a little.

Izuru blinked, momentarily taken aback. "…Sure?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "Sure," he said again. "Y'haven't let me down yet. Besides, what've I got to lose?" He sat up a little more, then waved a hand. "C'mere. We'll trade."

He found himself going down on one knee next to him before thinking. "Trade?"

A hand took firm hold of his chin, and Grimmjow pulled him down. After one firm kiss, he patted his cheek and let go. "There," he declared. "Now I'll trust you."

Izuru was aware that he was red, but just coughed and straightened back up. "All right," he managed, adjusting his haori. "Good. I- I'll be back."

"You better be."

He took a step back, hesitating for one last moment before heading for the door. This time, Grimmjow didn't stop him, and the door closed with a hollow thud behind him.

His footsteps echoed through the huge hallways, and Izuru winced, making a conscious effort to step more lightly. It wasn't like sneaking out in the early hours of the morning, taking each step by moonlight and worrying about leaving footprints in the dew- no, it was sunlight slanting down the ladder now, and he was going to have to wait until the small courtyard was deserted.

For all his bravado the night before, he could feel the familiar fear rising in the back of his throat. It tasted like bile.

Izuru swallowed and put his right foot on the bottom rung. Then his left foot on the one above it. He gripped the rung in front of his face, then nearly slipped- he pulled it back, wiping the sweat off his palm onto his hakama, and tried again.

The process up the ladder was a long and uncomfortable, and by the time Izuru reached the top, his hands ached from gripping the rungs and his knees shook just a little with the effort of holding still. He could still hear footsteps above him.

There was no suitable excuse for him to be in the waterways- especially not if he was late. And yet his mind raced, running over and over the possibilities. He should have asked Matsumoto to vouch for him, to come up with some sort of excuse- that was her specialty, after all. He needed one right now. Minutes were ticking by, the vice-captains' meeting was undoubtedly proceeding as planned, and the longer he waited the more he was convinced suspicion was building.

He was beginning to despair when the footsteps above him halted. Izuru stopped breathing. He couldn't have given himself away- there was no way.

Then, almost as one, however many pairs of feet there were turned and hurried away from the space directly above Izuru's head. If the map in his head was correct, those feet were headed towards the main road, in the direction of the squad houses.

There was no time to wonder about why. Izuru waited a moment more, giving them time to get far enough away, then pushed the stone cover aside and scrambled up into the daylight.

It wasn't until the cover had fallen back into place that he heard the gong.

Izuru straightened up, a hand mechanically fixing his hair. The street was deserted. In the distance, he could hear shouting. And behind it, the hollow, echoing sound of the gong. The intruder alert.

His hands uncurled at his sides, arms hanging slack. Again, that acid raised in the back of his throat, all his weight sinking to the soles of his feet.

Of course. If they claimed him an intruder from the beginning, there would be no backlash- and the captains who knew would agree. At least the lie was minor, compared to the need to mobilize forces. There was never a need for everyone to know everything, especially when the security of all of Soul Society was at stake.

It was over.

The feeling was as familiar as any could be. Grimmjow had trusted him- had put his fate in his hands, with a shrug and complete assurance- and any minute now, the Seireitei would be consumed with only the mission to find him. And get rid of him, the most efficient way possible. He had handed over his life to Izuru, and like anyone with any sense could predict, it was as good as giving up from the beginning.

And if he turned around and went right back down that ladder, and woke Grimmjow up and told him that he was sorry but all of Soul Society knew he was there and was out for his blood, and he would never see the light of day again unless it was from behind prison bars- no matter what he said, he somehow knew that Grimmjow wouldn't be angry.

He wouldn't blame him. He wouldn't swear and curse and pace- no, he would let whatever came, come.

It hadn't made sense to him from the beginning. It wasn't like he could claim that he'd understood Grimmjow the moment he'd set eyes on him, but somehow, he knew that the way he was reacting, the way he simply rolled over and said fine, go- it wasn't him. Every time he relented, every time he did something other than take charge and throw himself headfirst into a situation, that wasn't the same Grimmjow he had been when their swords had crossed, when he had broken down those prison bars- when they had met eye to eye in the tangle of borrowed sheets.

It was because he wasn't fighting his fate. He had already given up.

Izuru was faintly aware of a straining in his muscles, but it took a moment to realize it was the complaint of his leg- he was lifting his foot, setting it forward. Then the next. Then again. Then again, and faster, until he had broken into a run, his feet carrying him to the street and down a side alley to his own squad building.

It was like watching a tiger pace the length of its cage, not even mustering a growl at passerby, wild eyes only brightening when you threw a rat in the cage for lunch. It was like coming to that zoo everyday, learning every twitch of that tiger's whiskers and every flick of its tail, and then standing by while it was put to death for being a natural predator.

He couldn't just stand by and watch it happen.

But the first strike of that gong had put him in over his head. Going against Soul Society with his own limited power and influence was a death sentence on top of being stupid- even Kurosaki Ichigo had been unable to do it alone, and Izuru wasn't foolish enough to put himself anywhere near the human boy's class.

No, he would need help.

The hallways of the barracks were empty- as to be expected, as shinigami would be reporting to their duties as specified during an alert. Maybe they were wondering where he was- or maybe not. Either way, there wasn't time for him to worry over it in between throwing himself into the shower and finding a clean uniform. It would speak badly to his standing with the squad, but he refused to let himself care.

It was almost exhilarating.

It wasn't until he was clean, dressed, and headed back outside that Izuru realized he had no idea where to go. He needed assistance, that much was clear. Another vice-captain wouldn't be enough- it would require a captain on his side, and one with a good record. One that had served Soul Society well, but would still be willing to listen to his case and not immediately turn him in.

Head Captain Yamamoto was obviously out. He had never had contact of any significant kind with Captain Soi Fong, and she was unlikely to be sympathetic. Captain Unohana was a possibility, but he simply didn't know her well enough to be certain, and her vice-captain- while a lovely young lady and very kind- was very excitable. Captain Kyoraku was approachable, but unpredictable. Captain Komamura was far too strict on law to even be an option, as was Captain Kuchiki. Captain Kurotsuchi wasn't exactly the kind of ally anyone wanted, and Captain Zaraki frankly scared him too much.

Izuru peered out into the street. It was mostly deserted, just a few shinigami darting about here and there. Most looked newly graduated from the Academy, and uncertain of where to go. Any other time, he would have stopped to help them, but he had more pressing matters right now. So he headed down to the street, setting off at a steady jog.

When it came down to it, there were only two options.

Captain Ukitake would undoubtedly listen, and he certainly had the experience and relationship with Head Captain Yamamoto to be a desirous ally. In fact, every captain and vice-captain seemed to hold a special esteem for Captain Ukitake- he was kind, skilled, and a capable teacher. His loyalty to his squad was unmatched. He had led the destruction of the Sokyouku to rescue an unseated member of his squad, and showed no hesitation in defying his own teacher and the supposed ruling of the Central Forty-Six.

And yet, while something to be admired (as Izuru certainly did), his rebellion couldn't have sat well with the Head Captain. He had no way of knowing, but he could only assume that there had been some kind of censure. To ask him to rebel again was unthinkable, especially considering he only knew the man through Abarai, who knew him through Kuchiki. And to ask such a great task of a man so frail was unconscionable.

Assuming Captain Ukitake was not an option, it left him with only Captain Hitsugaya. Captain Hitsugaya, who had no patience for rule-breakers and slackers, who had fought valiantly in the defense of Soul Society in every conflict, raising his sword to even Aizen without fear. Captain Hitsugaya, who was the only captain aware of his betrayal, and had chosen to keep it to himself for reasons Izuru wasn't quite clear on and couldn't rely on.

Between the two, the choice was obvious.

Izuru slowed outside the squad building, dimly aware of the nails that were digging into his palms. When it was only his own life he was putting on the line, it was a much easier decision. But now- now, that he had no choice but to either surrender or involve someone else, it was agonizing.

But he could not surrender. Not this. Not anymore.

So Izuru pulled the door open, passing bewildered-looking shinigami on either side down the long hallway. As far as he remembered, this squad would report at the next stage of alert and remain as backup for this one. So while they were no doubt aware there was a situation, it was doubtful that the unseated members had any idea what the situation actually was. Normally, he would have the courtesy to nod to them, or at least make brief eye contact. He didn't have that time today.

He took the time to knock- it was only polite- but didn't bother to wait for an answer, throwing the door open. He could apologize later, and would- over and over and over again, if necessary.

The door shut behind him, and Izuru dropped to his knees, flattening his hands on the floor and bowing his head forward. It wasn't respect, it wasn't tradition- it was pure supplication, nothing else.

"Izuru?" he heard Matsumoto say, her voice distant and befuddled.

"Please, Captain Hitsugaya," he said, eyes squeezed shut, his heart in his throat. "I need your help."


	10. Chapter 8

"Get up, Kira," Captain Hitsugaya said, voice irritable. "The floor is filthy."

Izuru stared at the floor for a moment more. He had hoped he could conduct this entire visit while hiding his face- it would have made things easier. But it would have been rude to ignore his order while asking for assistance, and so he cleared his throat and lifted his head. Getting up was a little less elegant, but he managed to stand and brush off his hakama.

Matsumoto was staring at him from where she sat on the edge of Hitsugaya's desk, jaw hanging open. Hitsugaya shifted a pile of papers from behind her, a frown on his face. "Can this be fast?" he inquired, barely even looking up.

"I-" Izuru hesitated. "Well, no, it- it's kind of-"

Matsumoto slid down from the desk, taking the few steps across the office while he was stammering. "Izuru," she said again, laying her hands on his shoulders. "You look like you've seen a ghost! What's wrong?"

He met her eyes, and his stomach twisted. Her face was so open, so concerned- it made it almost impossible to open his mouth and say what he had come for. To betray her trust.

"It's about the intruder," he said, nails digging into his palms. "I- It's my fault that he's here."

Matsumoto's eyes widened, then hardened, her jaw set. Then she slapped him.

It took a step back to steady himself, and for a moment Izuru could only summon a kind of awe- for all the airs she put on, she was a strong woman. Then he lifted a hand to his smarting cheek, clearing his throat. He had deserved it, but that didn't make it sting less.

"I'm sorry," he began. "It was-"

"You lied to me!" Matsumoto's voice was tight, even choked, and at that he looked up in surprise. Her face was pale but for the streaks of red over her cheekbones, and for the first time Izuru noticed that her hair looked tangled, even unbrushed. "I even asked you, and you just lied to my face! I thought after all this time-"

"When did you-" Izuru stared at her, his head swimming. "You never asked anything about the captured Espada, you only asked if he was-"

Even after interrupting her, he stopped in the middle of his sentence. Matsumoto stared at him, realization dawning on her face just as surely as it must have been on his own.

"Both of you sit down. Now."

Hitsugaya's voice broke the silence, and before he had gotten all the way up from the desk, Matsumoto had dragged Izuru to the couch. He sat beside her, hands in his lap, unable to shake the feeling of a naughty child who had just been caught by a very angry parent.

He came around the desk, hands in the pockets of his captain's jacket, a frown etched into his face like he had been born with it there. "What do you know about the Espada, Kira?" he demanded, crossing his arms. "That's classified information."

"The intruder alert isn't for the Espada who's vanished from the holding cell," he said, feeling numb.

"No," Hitsugaya said simply.

"Oh, Izuru, I thought-" Matsumoto's hand grabbed onto his wrist. "Geez, and I haul off and hit you without even being sure-"

"It's Captain Ichimaru, isn't it?!" Izuru was on his feet before he thought better of it, practically dragging Matsumoto along with him. He was aware somewhere in the back of his mind that he was now looking down at Hitsugaya, towering even, but the captain's look of disinterest didn't even flicker. "How did he-"

"That's none of your concern, Kira," Hitsugaya interrupted.

"But-"

"Sit down." This time there was ice behind his words, and Izuru crumpled back onto the couch. "The identity of the intruder is unconfirmed as of yet, and is being handled by the appropriate people. I'm more interested in who you thought it was."

Silence filled the office again. Izuru laid his hands over his face, rubbing at his temples. Thoughts tore through his mind, bouncing off each other and tangling into knots. He was wrong. He had exposed himself. Grimmjow was in more danger now than he was before. Captain Ichimaru. He should have thought it through more before running for help like a child. Captain Ichimaru was in Soul Society. How? Why? What was he going to do?

"Kira." Hitsugaya's voice was quieter, even gentler, but still impatient. "You need to talk. Now."

Izuru nodded, and without lifting his head from his hands, he did just that. The words fell mechanically from his lips- the whole story, from the beginning. Meeting him, half-dead but enduring in Huecco Mundo, to their long talks in the Central Forty-Six and Grimmjow's angry denouncing of Aizen. Breaking him out, hiding him below the Seireitei in the old waterways.

When he fell quiet again, a hand folded over his knee. "Izuru," Matsumoto said quietly. "This arrancar… is he…?"

"The man I was talking about?" She was silent, and Izuru just nodded. He could hear her sharp intake of breath.

Hitsugaya cleared his throat, and Izuru lifted his face from his hands. The look on the young captain's face was unreadable, which did nothing for the nerves jangling through him.

"You're sheltering an arrancar," he said slowly. "An Espada."

Izuru nodded, fingers curling into his hakama. "Yes," he said simply.

Hitsugaya sighed, turning away for a moment. The fingers of one hand were drumming against his elbow, one foot tapping a staccato rhythm on the floor.

"I have to ask," he said abruptly, turning back to face him. "Do you have some kind of brain injury? Or are you just irredeemably stupid?"

Matsumoto made a choking sound- whether in surprise or the attempt to hold back laughter, he wasn't sure. Izuru just stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to reply.

"An arrancar is made of Hollows, Kira," Hitsugaya explained, unamused. "Hollows, who kill shinigami, who eat souls. Giving them a human form makes them no different."

Izuru shook his head, fingers tightening on his hakama. "I know that. I know what they are, I know. But Grimmjow-"

"Is a creation of Aizen," Hitsugaya interrupted. "You're being manipulated, Kira."

"That's not true!"

The words exploded out of him, the couch creaking beneath him as Izuru pushed to his feet. His hands were in fists at his sides, shoulders drawn up and tight. His chest hurt. "It's not true," he said again, not speaking, almost shouting. "It's not true. You're wrong."

"Izuru, calm down," Matsumoto said, and he felt her hand touch his. He yanked it away.

"Don't you think I know what it's like to be manipulated?" He knew even as the words came out of his mouth that everything he was doing was disrespectful, even insubordinate- the complete opposite of the correct way to behave in front of a captain. It was mortifying, but it just kept coming, overflowing. "I- I'm not stupid, Captain Hitsugaya. I know when I'm being pushed. I know when what I'm doing is wrong. With Captain Ichimaru, I- I knew. I knew I was wrong, and I did it anyway."

Hitsugaya was impassive, but uncharacteristically quiet. He only nodded, arms crossed over his chest. Izuru felt his arms tremble at his sides, so he squeezed his fists tighter.

"This is right," he said, holding himself up tightly. "I- I can't be afraid to do what's right, even if it's defying orders, even defying Soul Society itself. I won't stand back and just let this happen."

The words felt almost foreign coming out of his mouth, and the silence that fell afterwards was deafening. Hitsugaya looked back at him, almost challenging, but all he could do was bite down hard on the inside of his cheek and hold firm. If he spoke, he would lose. Izuru wasn't exactly a fighter, but even he knew that much.

"You're defending one of Aizen's creations," Hitsugaya said. "How can you believe that something from his hands can ever be redeemable?"

Years ago- months ago, even- he would have crumbled. After everything Aizen had done, how could he even try? What was the point? There had been no point to this from the beginning. It had been a useless effort, and all he had done was doom them both.

But even though it was Hitsugaya who stood before him, all Izuru could see was Grimmjow- bruised, bloodied, battered, but still dragging himself up that sand dune and raising his sword. Knowing he was doomed, but continuing to fight so long as there was breath in his body.

"Hinamori still believes in him," Izuru said, heart beating in his ears. "Is she irredeemable, too?"

The transformation of Hitsugaya's face was indescribable- from confusion, to betrayal, to fury, to desolation, freezing into a mix of pain and something like respect that was nearly impossible to look upon.

"Where the hell do you get the nerve?" His voice was tight, even halting. His fingers stretched in clear warning- his zanpakutou was at his side, as it probably had been since the alert was raised.

"You would raise your sword to anyone if it was for the sake of doing the right thing," Izuru said quietly. His nails were cutting into his palms. "Even if it means sacrificing everything I have left, I will follow your example. I owe you that respect for sparing me when I didn't deserve it."

For a long moment, Hitsugaya said nothing, and Izuru let out a tiny breath. For the first time, he felt his legs shaking.

"Take me to this arrancar," Hitsugaya said abruptly. "I want to see what I'm dealing with before I make a decision."

Izuru could have fainted. Instead, he nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to speak, and turned back towards the door.

The walk back seemed to take an eternity. He was aware that Hitsugaya and Matsumoto were following after him, and that the three of them were getting curious glances from what little passerby were left on the street, but all he could focus on was raising each foot and putting it down in line. If this went badly- he simply couldn't comprehend what would happen if Hitsugaya decided to turn them in.

There was no going back.

He stopped and opened the stone cover, then looked up at the two behind him. Hitsugaya's face was impassive, and Matsumoto's was drawn, tight- she was worried. But there was no time for that.

"Down here," he said, then swung down onto the ladder.

Once he was a few feet down, Hitsugaya's shadow covered him. Izuru stepped more carefully, then waited for them at the bottom of the ladder.

"Smart idea," Matsumoto offered, brushing her hair out of her face. "No one would think to look down here…"

Izuru nodded a little, managing a half smile. "This way," he offered, then set off along the long path.

He might have escaped censure once, but if Hitsugaya chose to not be so forgiving this time, he was sunk. But even knowing full well that he could be walking to his own death sentence- not to mention Grimmjow's- there was a curious serenity carrying him. He had made his choice, and there was no going back from it now. Perhaps if given the chance to do it over, he wouldn't have been so hasty to confess. But he couldn't turn back time, and even if he could, the result would be the same someday. He couldn't protect Grimmjow forever. All he could do was offer up his faith and hope that the others would see things the same way.

Izuru stopped outside the small door, then turned back to Hitsugaya and Matsumoto one last time. "He's not expecting you," he said, a little lamely. "If he overreacts, please don't think too badly of him because of it. He knows his situation, and he doesn't trust shinigami that much as it is."

Hitsugaya just nodded, then jerked his head towards the door. "Go on."

For one moment, Izuru considered pushing them both into the water. He and Grimmjow could run- maybe to the human world, maybe to the negative space where normal Hollows lived.

But instead, he swallowed and opened the door. This was the right thing to do.

When he walked into the room, Grimmjow had already started to get up. There was a half-smile on his face, and Izuru found himself more than a little relieved that he was dressed.

"Grimmjow, I-"

Izuru wasn't able to say one word more before Grimmjow's casual demeanor completely vanished. His eyes darted behind Izuru, obviously taking in the two who had come through the door behind him. Izuru raised a hand, prepared to explain- what if he thought Izuru had simply betrayed him?

Fingers dug into his wrist, and before he was able to struggle, Grimmjow had yanked him close. With one hard step and a twist of his arm, he forced Izuru behind him, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you think you're doing here?" he demanded, jutting his chin out aggressively- letting the light from the open door play over the ridged bone on his jaw.

Izuru stared at the center of his back, trying to force his heart back to a normal rhythm. If Grimmjow had stayed where he had been standing and simply pulled Izuru within easy striking distance, it would have been a threat, plain and simple. He wouldn't have needed to hold a blade to his throat to make that clear. And yet, that one simple movement, putting his bulk between Izuru and these two strange intruders…

He was protecting him. Or at least, he thought so.

The thought lumped a little in Izuru's throat, and he flattened a palm against Grimmjow's naked back- patting a little, soothing. "It's all right," he said, moving over from behind him. "They're my friends, Grimmjow."

When he looked up, Izuru was unsure to make of what he saw. Matsumoto had raised a hand to her mouth, one eyebrow arched. Hitsugaya looked dubious.

"This is Grimmjow Jaegerjacques," he said, a little awkwardly. "Grimmjow, this is Captain Hitsugaya Toushirou and Vice-Captain Matsumoto Rangiku of the Tenth Division."

"I hear you've renounced Aizen." There was a peculiar look on Hitsugaya's face. "Is that true?"

"Fuck Aizen," Grimmjow said simply. "I hope he's dead."

Izuru moved up next to Grimmjow, then took a deep breath. "He came willingly to Soul Society," he added, a little weakly. "He's still wearing the reiatsu suppressor."

"Would you be willing to coexist with shinigami, no matter how humiliating, if it meant the eventual defeat and death of Aizen?" Hitsugaya crossed his arms, face still unreadable.

Grimmjow cracked his knuckles. "I'm here, ain't I?" he pointed out, lips curling in a feral grin. "It's sure as hell not for my health."

Hitsugaya nodded sharply, then took a step forward. "Let's get one thing straight," he said, voice crisp and businesslike. "I don't trust you. You don't trust us. Hollows and shinigami are designed to never get along."

"No argument here." Grimmjow watched him cautiously.

Hitsugaya looked back at Matsumoto, who simply shrugged. He made brief eye contact with Izuru. Izuru fought the urge to wring his hands and simply returned the gaze before looking up at Grimmjow.

"But as long as we both hate Aizen more than each other, I think there's room to work here," he said, nodding once. "Matsumoto, see to the squad's needs. I'm going to request a meeting with Head Captain Yamamoto."

"That- that's it?" Izuru felt his knees sag and grabbed onto Grimmjow's arm to steady himself. "Captain Hitsugaya, I- I can't possibly thank you-"

"Then don't," he said archly, turning on his heel and waving to Matsumoto to follow. "Meet me in my office in an hour. Don't think you're out of the woods yet. The Head Captain will have his own questions to ask, I'm sure."

"Of course." Izuru just stared after him, still holding himself up.

Hitsugaya hesitated by the door, then looked back, letting Matsumoto leave ahead of him.

"I'd be a fool to turn down a powerful weapon against Aizen," he said quietly. "I have my own reasons for this. You don't owe me anything, Kira."

The door closed behind him.

"So… you can be a captain before your balls even drop, huh?"

Izuru could only laugh until tears ran down his face, Grimmjow's look of puzzlement blurring until he couldn't see it at all.


	11. Chapter 9

"Where the hell are we going so fast?!"

Izuru glanced back over his shoulder, tugging at Grimmjow's hand and not slowing his step. "We're going to be meeting with Head Captain Yamamoto," he explained hastily. "You haven't changed your clothes or bathed for almost a month. No one will be in the squad house because of the intruder alert, so we can use my room."

"…Intruder alert?"

He didn't answer, biting back the shudder and stopping at the bottom of the ladder. "Here. I'll go up first, you follow."

Before waiting for the response, he squeezed Grimmjow's hand and let go to ascend the ladder. There wasn't time to waste. He had no idea of how long the alert would be sounding, and if it were canceled, his squad members would be back in the barracks before he could hide Grimmjow. After having come this far, he couldn't let that happen.

He stopped at the top of the ladder to push the stone aside, and Grimmjow bumped into him with a grunt. Izuru tightened his grip on the ladder and craned his neck to glance down at him, then pushed the stone aside and stuck his head up above the ground.

"It's all clear," he said, mostly to himself.

Grimmjow pushed at him again from beneath, and Izuru took the hint, climbing up and taking a few steps away from the opening. A moment later, Grimmjow followed suit, pushing the stone covering back with his foot.

"Come on," Izuru said, brushing dirt of his hakama. "Let's go."

There was no response, and he paused, looking back over his shoulder.

Grimmjow had stopped, hands resting in the slits of his hakama. His eyes were closed, a faint smile just barely curling his lips. He took in a slow breath, arching his back, the breeze ruffling through his hair.

For a moment, Izuru just watched him. Grimmjow hadn't had a breath of fresh air since he had come to Soul Society, not counting their flight from the Central Forty-Six to the sewers. With every breath he took, it was like he could see the color returning to his face, the strength returning to unstretched muscles.

He was coming back to life.

"Grimmjow, we have to go," he said after a moment, sorely regretting breaking the silence.

Grimmjow opened an eye, then turned towards him, nodding and stretching his arms. "Yeah, okay."

Izuru smiled a little, waiting for him, then turned, heading in the direction of the squad building. After a moment, Grimmjow's hand closed on his elbow, and he let him tug him up against his side.

He was warm. For a moment, Izuru was grateful for that.

It seemed only seconds later that his hand was closing on the doorknob of the Third Squad barracks. The door pulled open easily, revealing empty silence- it was deserted. Even his footsteps sounded loud and hollow against the wooden floor.

"This is your place?" Grimmjow's voice echoed down the hallway.

Izuru stopped outside his own room, pulling the key from a pocket inside his haori. "It's not much," he said honestly, unlocking and pulling the small door open. "But I don't ask for much." Grimmjow moved past him, ducking his head a little to pass easily through the doorway. Izuru looked up and down the hall once more, vaguely aware that his palms were sweating, and followed him in.

"The bathroom is here," he said, opening a side door. Grimmjow poked his head in, then looked back at him, as through for encouragement. Izuru smiled, stepping aside to give him room.

"…I can use all of this?" He looked dubious.

It was hard to keep the smile steady. "Of course," Izuru said gently, pushing at his back. "Go get clean."

Grimmjow eyed him for a moment more, then shrugged and disappeared into the bathroom, pulling the door shut. A moment later, the door cracked open and a pair of dirty, torn hakama flew out and puddled on the floor.

Izuru let out a long sigh, sinking into a nearby chair. Meeting with Head Captain Yamamoto- easy enough to say, but actually doing it was going to be next to impossible. The few times he had been in his presence had been enough to send his knees to water, and he certainly hadn't been the focus of the man's attention. And now, facing him as a possible traitor? It was unimaginable.

He could feel it now- that prickle of overwhelming reiatsu, the sudden blackness welling up behind his eyes-

Izuru shook his head, rubbing at an eye. His imagination was getting the better of him. Instead, he forced out a long breath and stood- his legs still a little wobbly- and made his way to his closet. Grimmjow would need new clothing, and while there was no way Izuru's own would fit him, there must be something he could use. He took the time to grab Wabisuke on the way- a vice-captain should be carrying his weapon in time of crisis, after all.

It only took a minute or so of rifling through his closet before his fingers brushed over a small pile of fabric. Izuru blinked, pushing his own hanging clothes out of the way to reveal a carefully folded haori and hakama. They were obviously a different size than his own, even folded. He frowned, leaning closer and picking them up.

It took a long moment of staring at the clothing before it dawned on him. It must have been years ago- a night of drinking that had ended badly, and both Abarai and Hisagi had crashed in his room, as his captain was much more relaxed than either of theirs.

The thought twinged in his chest, and Izuru found himself forcing his fingers to uncurl from his palms. He pushed out another heavy sigh, setting the clothing down on his desk. They were Abarai's, and clean, if a little ripped in the leg from when he had tripped on their way back. Grimmjow wasn't that different in size- they should fit all right.

He stared down at the desk, then wiped his palms on his hakama and turned to the side, eyes sweeping casually over the chair he had left pulled out the night before.

His eyes were dry by the time he could force himself to blink.

His vice-captain's badge was sitting in the center of the chair. Directly in between the label of "three" and the etching of the marigold, the ribbon was tied in a neat little bow.

Izuru laid a hand on the desk- just after grabbing at his arm, automatically feeling for the badge. He must have left it accidentally while rushing out to meet with Captain Hitsugaya. Proper dress hadn't exactly been on his mind at the time.

He never would have done such a thing himself- especially not when he was in such a rush. No. It hadn't been by his hand that the badge sat there, neat, accusing, with such a pert little bow his trembling hands never could have tied.

He wasn't sure if it was the intruder alarm or his own ears that were ringing.

"Hey, what's goin' on with you?"

Izuru bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, strangling back the yelp of surprise. It was Grimmjow's hand on his shoulder- he knew that, he knew the weight of his hand and the warmth of his body right behind him, but it didn't stop him from drawing himself up stiffly, trying to let out a breath.

"Hey," Grimmjow said again, squeezing his shoulder.

"…I'm sorry," he said finally, turning to face him, forcing calm onto his face. "We- we need to go. Now."

"That little kid said an hour." His brows drew together. "Why now?"

"We- we just need to go now." Izuru laid a hand in the center of his chest, pacifying, then flushed slightly and turned to grab the folded clothing. "Here- this should fit you, at least well enough for now. Come on, get dressed."

"Why now?" Grimmjow demanded, grabbing his arm. His fingers dug in, and Izuru winced. "What the hell is going on, Izuru? You look like you've seen a damn ghost!"

"Someone's been in here!" Izuru snapped back before thinking, shoving the clothes into his chest. "There's an intruder in the Seireitei, and someone's been in my room touching my things, and I just need to get you to this meeting before something happens, so please, Grimmjow- please, Grimmjow, just do this."

For a moment, Grimmjow just stared at him, and he nearly wilted. But all he was doing was looking, just gaping at him with big, puzzled eyes, and Izuru found himself staring back. Jaw tense, shoulders up.

Holding his ground.

"Okay," Grimmjow said, unfolding the hakama and pulling them on grudgingly. "Okay- if there's been someone in here, then we're getting out. Right? Who the hell would break into your room? Is anything missing? You didn't see anybody, right?"

Izuru took the haori from him and unfolded it, moving to help Grimmjow into it. "We're leaving," he said quietly. "It doesn't matter who it is. We're not staying long enough for it to matter. The court guard squads are already investigating."

Grimmjow fumbled at the belt of the hakama, grumbling, then just tied it in an untidy knot and grabbed Izuru's arm. "Come on, then," he said roughly, setting off in a quick stride. "If it's not safe, then we're getting out."

"Grimmjow-" He stumbled behind him.

The intruder alarm was ringing, the sound echoing down the hallway. Izuru kept his eyes on his feet, his heart beating in his throat, Matsumoto's face floating in his mind. He didn't know for sure that she was right. He didn't even know what evidence they had- Captain Hitsugaya had made sure of that. But who else would bother to enter his room? Who else would see his discarded badge and decide to make a tidy little message out of it?

His chest hurt, but Grimmjow's grip on his arm was tight and warm.

Grimmjow pushed the door open, and Izuru squinted his eyes against the mid-morning sun, struggling to keep up. He was far enough behind that he had to lean forward to keep up, and then he was running directly into Grimmjow's back.

"Grimmjow," he said, catching his breath hard and bouncing back. Grimmjow's fingers dug into his wrist, and he looked up at the back of his head before shifting to look in front of him.

His knees sagged almost instantly, and it was only the quick grasp of the back of Grimmjow's haori that kept him from falling completely.

"Captain Ichimaru," Izuru said dumbly.

He was smiling. For a long moment, it was all Izuru could think, all he could see- those thin lips curled in that frozen smirk, the slivers of ice just barely visible behind his eyelids. Just like before. Just like always.

"Well, well, well," Ichimaru drawled, hands in his sleeves, head tilting innocently. "Looks like I've been caught! What a shame."

Izuru curled his fingers harder into the haori.

"Ichimaru-" Grimmjow started forward, hands tensing into fists at his sides. There was a snarl to his voice, the muscles in his shoulders knotted and stiff. "What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

Ichimaru's lips pursed, brows drawing together in a look that almost perfectly simulated confusion. "I was just about t' ask you that same thing. Only I thought it would be rude, is all."

"Bullshit you were! It doesn't even-"

Grimmjow abruptly fell silent when it became obvious that Ichimaru wasn't listening. His head had barely turned, his eyes certainly hadn't opened, but all the same, his center of attention had shifted. And Izuru felt his knees start to tremble.

Ichimaru took one step forward, and Grimmjow took one to the side- directly in front of Izuru.

Ichimaru laughed- a deceptive, lilting sound- and Izuru shuddered, leaning forward just a little to touch his face to Grimmjow's back.

"What is this?" The laughter hadn't left Ichimaru's voice, nearly hiding the edge of steel that had appeared beneath. "Almost looks like there's a little arrancar standin' in my way."

Grimmjow drew himself up. "You know who I am, you piece of shit," he snarled. "You stay right where you are."

Izuru stared at his back. Ichimaru took another step forward.

"Come on, Grimmjow," he said, voice thin, barely audible. "Let's go. Let's just go."

"Oh, I think I heard the little mouse squeak!" Izuru shuddered at the playful lilt in his voice, shoulders drawing up. "I see you hidin' back there behind him, Izuru. Why dontcha come on out and say hi to your old Captain Ichimaru?"

"You're not his captain anymore!" Grimmjow snapped, one hand snapping to the side in a gesture that told Izuru very clearly that he was not to move. "You're not anything to him! So you might as well just run on home to Aizen. No one wants your sorry ass here."

"Well, well, well."

The change in Ichimaru's voice was barely perceptible, but obvious enough that Izuru felt Grimmjow stiffen just a little.

"Stay where you are," Grimmjow warned, even over the sound of Ichimaru's footsteps.

"I just have t' wonder," Ichimaru continued, voice deceptively pleasant, "just why it is that you're speakin' for him, Grimmjow? Why, it's almost like you know each other! Even pretty well, I daresay."

"That's because we-"

Before Grimmjow could say any more, Izuru yanked at his haori, ignoring the protective arm in front of him and stepping out to the side. "The alert's already been raised, Captain Ichimaru," he said, forcing a steadiness into his voice that he felt no part of. "There's no point in starting a fight, even for you."

"Izuru, goddammit, what the hell are you doing?" Grimmjow hissed, grabbing for his arm.

"You should be grateful," Ichimaru observed, taking another lazy step forward, hands still hidden in his sleeves. "Poor little Izuru's tryin' to save your hide. He knows, after all."

"Knows what?" Grimmjow's fingers caught Izuru's sleeve.

"That I don't like other boys playin' with my toys," Ichimaru said, the frozen smile not even showing a crack as his fingers dug into Grimmjow's throat.

Izuru's sleeve tore.

It took a simple flick of Ichimaru's wrist to fling Grimmjow across the small courtyard. He hit the ground hard, skidding a good distance across broken stone before stopping. Izuru stared, hands slack at his sides, heart pounding in his ears.

"Goodness." Ichimaru cocked his head, attention on Grimmjow for a moment. "Was that a suppressor I saw? No wonder he flew so easy." He shook his head, looking almost disappointed, then glanced back at Izuru over his shoulder. "Now, then…"

Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run. For whatever other weaknesses he had, Izuru was not stupid- he knew Ichimaru was just as likely to run him through as he was to pretend he mattered anything at all. But his feet were rooted to the ground, his hands slack at his sides. He couldn't move.

Ichimaru advanced on him, the frozen smile cracking and spreading. Sickness was rising in the back of his throat.

Then there was the sound of sandal scraping against broken ground, and scraped fingers were digging hard into Ichimaru's sleeve. Grimmjow dragged himself up from the ground, eyes hard, jaw set. "Back up," he snarled. His lip was bleeding, just a little. "Back the hell up."

"You always were such a reckless thing," Ichimaru said, brows lifting in amusement. "Probably why Sousuke kept you around."

He pushed to his feet, face twisting, and Ichimaru only flicked his sleeve- and Grimmjow crashed to the ground, head slamming into the stone with a sickening crack. Izuru felt his knees buckle, heartbeat throbbing behind his eyes. No, he tried to say, the word turning to dust on his tongue. No.

No.

"You might want to stay down there," Ichimaru informed, and he forced his eyes down- down to the crumpled heap of dusty hakama and bare skin laced with old scars, blood already staining the shock of steel-blue hair and trickling over the bone-teeth on his jaw. The red suppressor around his throat stood out, a stark accusation.

And yet Grimmjow stirred again.

"Don't," Izuru said, the broken sound startling even him. "Grimmjow. Don't. Please."

Grimmjow looked up at him, his eyes cloudy but direct, and Izuru held his gaze. "Please," he said again.

"That's it," Ichimaru said, voice cloying, lips curled. "Be a good boy. Izuru and I are just gonna have a little chat, that's all."

"Like hell you are," Grimmjow spat, and he shifted, going to sit up.

Ichimaru clicked his tongue in disapproval, and one of his hands moved from his sleeve to his side. "I s'pose I'll just have to keep you there."

He saw the gleam of Shinsou, and for just that half a second, all he could see was metal, all he could smell was blood, and the familiar shame was choking him. Ichimaru was going to kill him- he was going to run Grimmjow through and pin him to the ground, and he was going to just stand here and watch because he was too much of a coward.

He could stand up to Captain Hitsugaya. Even to the thought of facing Head Captain Yamamoto. He could fight a wounded Espada with nothing to lose without a second thought, and yet even saying a word was too much for him now.

He couldn't go on like this.

Shinsou flashed, and then the ground rumbled- just before a swath of pure black destruction crackled through the air between them, splitting the stone beneath their feet. In the back of his mind, Izuru was aware that the attack meant someone else was there, someone he would be able to place with a little more thought- but right now, all that mattered was that it gave him an opening.

By the time the air had cleared, his stomach was in knots and his palms were slick with sweat, but Wabisuke was clutched in his hand and the point of the blade was grazing Ichimaru's throat.


End file.
